


Shivery

by aliceinwonderbra



Series: Shivery [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Buffy Summers, Doing double duty as a ‘Faith finds out’ fic, F/F, I’ll never read the comics so don’t @ me, Kennedy does something useful, Light Angst, Pining, Post-Chosen, Romance, another failed attempt at PWP, the Buffy and Faith get stuck in a blizzard and have to share body heat fic no one asked me for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinwonderbra/pseuds/aliceinwonderbra
Summary: A simple artifact retrieval mission goes wrong, leaving Buffy and Faith stranded in the wilderness without a way to call for help. With a blizzard coming in, they have to work together to survive.Post-Chosen, with some storylines from the comics included. Mostly I've mangled them to suit my needs.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Series: Shivery [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076543
Comments: 52
Kudos: 176





	Shivery

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over 10 days at basically a fever pitch (for me lol), because I could not get it out of my mind. Enjoy!

The sun rises slowly, in streaks of pink and orange, over the mountains to the east of the castle. Faith pulls the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, bringing a mug of steaming coffee to her lips and taking a tentative sip. Coming to Command always leaves her feeling exhausted and on edge—something about the sheer volume of people here, not to mention being around Buffy—but she has to admit, the view here is unparalleled.

Sunrise hasn’t always been her favorite part of the day. Before becoming the slayer, she probably had never even seen the sun rise. Even after she was called, Faith was usually home in bed by that time of the morning. Her time in lock up was what taught her to really appreciate sun up—mostly because her body’s internal clock would finally reset and she’d stop feeling like she was about to climb out of her skin from lack of slaying. That feeling never really went away, all the time she was there, like something in her knew that if it just kept up long enough, she’d go back to what she was made to do.

That ended up being true, although not until she was needed on the outside. Still, after Sunnydale became a smoking crater in the ground, no one suggested she go back. Faith’s not sure if that’s because they recognized she was doing more good walking around free than she would be sitting behind bars, or if they just never gave a second thought to what she’d do next. Probably the second one. It’s not like anyone asked her if she wanted to take up residence in Scotland and help corral the baby slayers. Not that she would have taken them up on the offer, if it had been extended. It’s not that she’s on bad terms with Buffy or her friends, not _exactly_. She just doesn’t fit here and she’s made peace with that. They call when they need her, and she calls to give them a heads up when she comes across anything needing a second look. That’s the relationship.

Giles’s latest request was a bit unusual, and she’s still not exactly sure why he needed her to do it when there’s a million slayers walking around at his disposal, but Faith figures if he wants to teleport her all over the earth just to bring him a book, who is she to question it? It’s not like it even took her that much time and effort to get. She met Giles’s contact in a seedy looking bar just outside of DC and had the small book tucked inside her jacket in under a minute. The dude himself was twitchy, and Faith had the feeling he couldn’t wait to hand over the goods. Three hours later, she was standing in Giles’s office, watching him unwrap the leather sleeve from the book with exaggerated care.

She’d traveled light, figuring on Red zapping her straight back to other side of the pond when the delivery was in hand, but apparently Willow was at max capacity for teleports in one day. Giles made some apologetic noises and sent her upstairs with a room assignment and promises to get her back home as soon as possible, only it would be at least another day before they were ready. The room is nice enough. Roomy, with a view of the loch, has its own bathroom so she doesn’t have to bump elbows with some junior applying her pimple cream while she’s trying to brush her teeth. It beats a cot in Buffy’s basement to be sure, but she’s ready to get gone. Home to Cleveland, where she’s got her own little studio set up. It ain’t much, but it’s a place to hang her swords.

Faith hasn’t stayed long enough to even shake off the jetlag, her body still working on her own time zone, which is why she finds herself up and watching the sunrise, cup of good joe in hand. The keep roof is empty at this time of day, with most of the local slayers having already returned from patrol and gone to bed. Out among the outbuildings, she sees two slayers she vaguely recognizes curled up on a blanket, watching the sunrise. Their heads lean close together, one tucked in the other’s arm.

Faith can imagine how they feel—new slayers, all the power in the world running through their bodies. Like nothing else exists outside of them. She’s been there. She and Buffy never quite cuddled up for sunrise though. So the newbies have one up on her.

Turning away before she goes too far down that particular part of memory lane, she hears voices from the walk below. Not in the mood to deal with star struck newbies, or worse, stilted conversation with one of the super friends, Faith doesn’t bother revealing herself. They’ll never know she’s up here, and she’ll be leaving in a minute anyway, once her coffee’s finished. She’s headed out today. Got her teleportation all booked with Red. She never stays longer than she has to. Taking the last sip from her mug, Faith prepares to head back inside. As she passes the part of the roof closest to the walk, the voices from below become clearer.

_“Nisha just needs to move on,”_ the first voice says, and Faith pegs her as young, maybe one of the new slayers, _“Satsu is hot and all, but I don’t know why she’s so hung up on her.”_

A second voice, also unfamiliar, says, _“Well, Satsu was into her, too…”_

_“Yeah, until she saw Buffy.”_

That piques Faith’s interest, and her mouth curls into a smirk. Some other poor soul has a crush on Buffy? Best of luck to her.

_“Yeah, like_ that’s _ever gonna happen.”_

The first girl snorts, then cuts herself off abruptly. “ _Oh my God, Michelle. Are you serious? You don’t know?”_

_“Know what?”_ The one apparently named Michelle asks.

_“Uh, about Satsu and Buffy hooking up!”_

What? _“What?”_ Michelle gasps. _“Oh my God, poor Nisha! Does she know?”_

The other girl responds, but Faith doesn’t hear what she says. The sound of her own pulse is suddenly pounding painfully in her ears. It isn’t until she feels a sharp pain in her hand and realizes that she’s squeezed the mug so hard it’s shattered that the real world comes rushing back in.

_“Did you hear that?”_ Michelle asks from below her.

The final dredges of coffee drip down her wrist and mix with the blood seeping from her cut hand. Faith grits her teeth and stalks over to the door leading back inside, flinging it open and disappearing down the stairs toward her room. By the time the two slayers make it up to the roof to investigate, the space is empty other than a few drops of dark liquid, cooling in the early morning sun.

XXXXX

By the time noon finally rolls around, Faith’s more ready to get out of this place than she’s ever been. The dark look on her face was enough to send the only other early riser flying right out of the kitchen, leaving Faith free to grab enough provisions to spend the morning holed up in her room. She’s been chain smoking out the window since then, finishing each cigarette down to the filter before flicking the butt angrily out onto the lawn. She can only hope Buffy herself happens across them and it pisses her off. Then again, maybe B’s too busy breaking in one of the new slayers to care.

At exactly the top of the hour, Faith shoves her lighter in her pocket, chucks the crumpled pack of smokes in the trash, and makes her way downstairs to find Willow and get out of this place. She’s already mentally planning her evening (go home, shower, hit the bar, find a blond, fuck her senseless) when she rounds the corner leading to the wing Willow’s commandeered for magic shit and spots the person she least wants to see right down the hall.

Buffy seems to be headed to meet Willow as well and she stops when she spots Faith. “Hey,” she greets, as Faith reluctantly keeps walking toward her. “You headed out already?”

She looks good, better than the last time Faith saw her. Scotland must suit her. Or maybe it’s the new bedmate. “Yeah,” Faith says, not interested in making further conversation. They fall into step together, walking through the wing toward the farthest room.

“How are things in Cleveland?” Buffy asks.

Faith shrugs, pretending not to notice when Buffy looks at her a little closer.

“Robin says he doesn’t hear from you much,” Buffy adds.

“So?” Faith asks, her voice harsher than she intends. “You keeping tabs on me now?”

It’s subtle, but Buffy puts an extra step of space between them. “No,” she says, sounding aggrieved, “just asking how you are.”

“Five by five,” Faith says, forcing a lightness into her voice that she doesn’t feel.

“Okay,” Buffy says, dropping any further attempt at conversation.

That’s fine by Faith. They finish the walk to Willow’s office in silence, Buffy entering first and Faith behind her. Willow and Dawn are already there and both look up to greet them.

Nodding her response, Faith situates herself on the sidelines. There are several rows of weapons mounted on the far wall, and she pretends to study them. Across the room, Buffy bundles herself into knee-high mukluks before sliding on a comically large coat. She fishes a hat, gloves, and scarf out of her pockets, adding these to her ensemble.

“Ready?” Willow asks her.

Buffy nods. “I feel like the little brother in _A Christmas Story_.” She looks like it too, but Faith doesn’t think that particular input would be appreciated, so she keeps it to herself.

Willow smiles. “You’ll be glad you have all that stuff when you get there.”

Taking a seat on the couch, Faith wonders how long this is going to take. Willow should have given her a heads up that she was double booking on teleports today, and she’d have come later. She’s got better things to do than sit here and wait for them to send Buffy to the North Pole or wherever she’s going. Annoyed, she goes back to planning out her evening. She’s deep in thought, not bothering to glance up when she hears the portal open and Buffy and Dawn exchange goodbyes. What does make her look up is Willow’s voice ringing out loudly through the room.

“I can’t control it!” Willow says, her voice panicked. She reaches both hands out toward the swirling portal, fingers clenching as if she’s grabbing it physically. “Something’s interfering with my teleport.”

The portal shrinks slightly, no longer big enough to walk into.

“Something’s kidnapping Buffy?” Dawn asks, looking equally alarmed.

Ignoring her, Willow grits her teeth and yanks her hands back toward herself. The portal grows a little bigger, before immediately shrinking again.

“I can’t hold it,” Willow says, sweat appearing on her face.

“What do I do?” Dawn asks.

“Get help!” Willow says, red faced with exertion.

Dawn disappears out the door as fast as her legs can carry her, the door slamming into the wall behind her. Faith looks at the shrinking portal, then the panic clear in Willow’s face, and stands up. She plucks an axe from the wall and heads straight for the portal.

“Don’t,” Willow starts to warn. The rest of her thought dies on her lips as Faith executes a neat somersault, disappearing head first into the portal. It closes behind her with a tiny popping sound, leaving a panting Willow alone in the room.

“Crap,” Willow says, trying to catch her breath.

XXXXX  
  
She materializes in thin air, reaching desperately for solid ground. It comes up to meet her, as she plummets 15 feet toward frigid earth. Slayer reflexes kick in, and she tosses the axe wide, not about to lose a limb in the inevitable collision. Her face breaks her fall. Only the fact that she’s landed on what seems to be a mountain of powdery snow softens the blow. No sooner does she land than Faith hears a shriek and a thumping sound. She sits up, wincing as the wind stings her face.  
  
Buffy’s a few yards away and looks to have had a similar landing. She sits up, spitting out snow stained bright red with blood. Probing her front teeth with her tongue, she winces. “Ow,” she says, “and also, what the hell?”

Faith tries moving each of her limbs, finding no breaks, but one majorly unhappy ankle. “Someone hijacked the teleport once you were already in,” she responds.

“How’d you end up here?” Buffy asks, slowly getting to her feet.

“Jumped in after you,” Faith says. _Like a dumb ass._

Raising an eyebrow, Buffy covers the space between them and extends her hand to Faith.

Taking it, Faith allows herself to be pulled to her feet, keeping the weight off her right ankle. “Guessing this isn’t where you were supposed to end up?”

“Not exactly,” Buffy says, looking around at where they’ve landed. Endless white ground sweeps out around them, without even trees to break the monotony. No buildings, no smoke, no signs of roads or sound to be heard other than their breathing and the crunching of their feet against the snow.

Buffy’s at least dressed properly for the weather. Faith’s hoodie and jeans combo is doing little to cut the chill of the wind creeping right through her clothes. She pulls her hood up, tucking it over her ears. “I guess we’re walking then.”

XXXXX

They’ve been walking for probably two hours, going in the direction of the waning sun. The landscape hasn’t changed one bit. Every step is a struggle, her feet sinking into several inches of snow, her ankle screaming with pain every time she has to yank her foot free again. Growing up in Boston, Faith thought she was familiar with cold, but this… this is next level. Every part of her body is numb, except for her damn ankle. Wet has begun seeping into her boots, making her feet so cold that she’s half expecting her toes already have frostbite.

Neither of them has said anything in quite some time, both gritting their teeth and plowing onward. Buffy walks to Faith’s right, letting her body shield some of the wind that would otherwise be hitting Faith full force. Above them, gray clouds have rolled in, blocking out the warmth they might otherwise get from the sun. Faith knows the look—snow clouds. If they don’t find somewhere to shelter soon, this situation is going to go from bad to worse.

She doesn’t immediately notice that Buffy has stopped walking, until the full force of the wind hits her. That knocks Faith to attention, and she looks back to find Buffy unzipping her parka. “What are you doing?” Faith asks, looking over at her in annoyance. Stamping up and down, she tries to keep feeling in her feet. Buffy needs a break? She’s the one outfitted like she’s about to climb Mt. Everest. Faith’s the one freezing her tits off.

“Give me your hoodie,” Buffy says.

“What?” Faith manages, holding her teeth together to keep from chattering.

Sighing impatiently, Buffy slips her arms free of the coat, holding it out to Faith. “Give me the hoodie,” she repeats. “You put this on.”

“Nah,” Faith says, although she desperately wants to take it. “Keep your coat. No sense in both of us being cold.”

“You’re turning blue,” Buffy points out. “We can trade off.” She looks at Faith expectantly.

Faith thinks about protesting again, but truthfully, she’s too fucking cold. She carefully unsheathes the axe from where she’s tucked it into the front pocket of her sweatshirt and drops it into the snow. Then she brings freezing hands to the bottom of her hoodie and yanks it up and over her head, managing to stifle the ensuing gasp as the wind hits the newly revealed bare skin of her arms and neck.

Taking the hoodie from her, Buffy pulls it on over her thermal shirt. She leaves the hood over her head, atop her hat, for extra protection. Getting into the parka, Faith nearly moans in happiness as all the trapped heat suddenly surrounds her. She zips it up, pulling the hood over her head before she stuffs her hands in the pockets.

“Better?” Buffy asks, already looking uncomfortable in the cold.

Faith nods. “Thanks.”

“Are your feet wet?” Buffy asks next, looking down at Faith’s definitely not weatherproof boots.

They’re not soaked, but they are starting to feel a little damp. “They’re fine,” Faith lies.

Giving her a pointed look, Buffy stomps over in her giant boots and turns her back to Faith. “Hop on,” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah right,” Faith says. Is she kidding?

Rolling her eyes, Buffy says, “We have no idea where we are, or when someone is going to come rescue us. If your feet get wet, you’re gonna get frostbite. And your bum ankle is slowing us down.”

“My ankle’s fine,” Faith protests.

“You know I can carry you,” Buffy says impatiently. “Stop wasting time, and let’s go.”

Buffy’s wearing that _shut up and do what I tell you_ face she’s so good at. As usual, it makes Faith a little tempted to punch her right in that self-righteous little mouth of hers, but she swallows down the urge and nods reluctantly. She unzips the parka again, shivering at the cold air that creeps immediately in. Putting her hands on Buffy’s shoulders, she hops easily onto her back. Faith tucks both sides of the coat around Buffy’s arms so it’s providing some minimal protection for both of them, winding her arms loosely around Buffy’s chest.

Slipping one gloved hand under Faith’s knee, Buffy stoops and picks up the axe where Faith dropped it, handing it to her before she hooks her other knee. Then she sets off, making slow progress across the desolate landscape.

Buffy doesn’t make conversation as she walks, and normally, Faith would say something just to annoy her, but considering she’s currently carting Faith through whatever godforsaken tundra they’ve found themselves in, Faith decides to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she studies the world around them, looking for any signs of civilization.

There aren’t any to be found. There are some indications of animal activity, tracks here and there, some bedraggled shrubbery poking through the top of the snow and showing signs of being snacked upon. Nothing she sees makes her think that people are anywhere nearby, or ever have been.

“Do you wanna trade back?” Faith asks, after they’ve been walking what she estimates to be close to an hour. “Wear the coat for a while?”

Buffy shakes her head, trace amounts of flurries shaking free. It’s been snowing gently for the last several minutes.

“We could swap shoes,” Faith offers next. “I’ll carry you.”

“Faith,” Buffy bites back, before seeming to catch herself and make her voice a little more even, “you’re not carrying me with that ankle.”

“Let’s take a break for a sec,” Faith says, wiggling her left leg so Buffy’s forced to stop or risk dropping her in the snow.

Sighing, Buffy stops and lets go of Faith’s legs, bending slightly to make it easier for her to slide to her feet.

Carefully distributing her weight away from her sore ankle, Faith straightens up, shaking her limbs out. She gets her first look at Buffy’s face in a while. It’s red with windburn, her lower lip cracked where she bit it upon their arrival.

“Snow’s coming down harder,” Faith says softly.

“I know,” Buffy says, sounding tired. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits. “There’s nothing out here, but we’re going to freeze to death if we just sit down and wait.” She rubs her hands up and down her arms, stomping her feet where they stand. “We’re screwed.”

“We’re not screwed,” Faith says, mostly because she thinks one of them has to be optimistic. They probably _are_ screwed. She steps closer to Buffy, and says, “Hug me.”

Buffy gives her an incredulous look.

“For warmth,” Faith clarifies, opening the front of the parka.

Buffy gets it then. She comes to stand in front of Faith, and, looking a little bit awkward, winds her arms inside the coat and around Faith’s waist.

Closing the sides of the parka as much as she can around Buffy, Faith rubs her cold hands up and down Buffy’s back briskly. Buffy’s nose is like ice where it presses into her neck, but Faith doesn’t pull away. She tries to remember another time when she and Buffy have hugged and comes up empty. Figures that the first time would be in a life or death situation.

“Why’d you follow me into the portal?” Buffy asks, her voice muffled by the fleece neck of the coat.

“You think I was gonna let you be kidnapped by demons or whatever and get all the glory once you kicked their asses?” Faith asks, pressing her own cold face against Buffy’s hood.

Buffy chuckles wetly, then says, “Thanks.”

They stay that way longer than is probably smart, given the tilt of the sun in the sky. It’s the warmest they’ve been in hours and neither seems to want to pull away. Finally Faith says, “We’re gonna have to make a temporary shelter.”

“Out of what?”

“Snow,” Faith says, like it’s obvious. She looks around them. “Let’s finish going up this hill and if we don’t see anything else, we’ll just hole up here.”

Nodding against her neck, Buffy reluctantly pulls free of the coat. “Okay,” she says, steeling herself against the frigid wind again, “let’s go.” She presents her back to Faith, but Faith starts trudging up the hill in the lead.

“Hey!” Buffy complains.

“Ankle’s good now,” Faith lies over her shoulder.

The two of them huff and puff their way up the particularly powdery slope, the cold stealing the breath from their lungs. Faith’s primed to see absolutely nothing at the top, and it takes her a second to realize she’s really seeing something different.

A sparse grouping of evergreens lies ahead of them, still visible in spite of the swirling snow now falling even faster. Without a word, they set off down the opposite side of the hill, Faith in the lead so she can set the pace.

XXXXX

They don’t find anything of note among the trees. No magically appearing cabin or natural hot springs they can sink into and finally get warm again. Faith identifies what she deems to be a good spot and says, “We need to dig a trench.”

“A trench?” Buffy asks, trying to hold herself still even though all her body wants to do is shiver.

“Not enough time to do a whole cave,” Faith says, only half paying attention to her, as she dig the toe of her boot into the snow experimentally. “I think the ground’s frozen too. But there’s a ton of snow. We should be able to get a good trench done.”

“What do we do?” Buffy asks.

Following Faith’s instructions, they take turns wearing the gloves to dig up snow and pile it on the north most side of the hole. “That’ll block most of the snow from blowing in on us,” Faith says. They keep going beyond what seems reasonable, to her at least, until Faith’s finally satisfied, and says, “That should do it.” They haven’t reached the ground yet; the bottom of the trench is still hard packed snow. “Let’s get some branches,” Faith says next, and Buffy nods. At least she’s warmer when she moving.

They snap whole limbs off the nearby trees, and Faith arranges them over the top of the trench, leaving a space just big enough for them to slip through.

It’s fully dark outside by the time Faith’s satisfied. She gestures for Buffy to climb in first, and Buffy does, sitting down and scooting over to leave room for Faith. In the trench, it feels marginally warmer, if only because they’re out of the wind. Faith pulls the last group of branches over the remaining opening to keep the snow out. Then she squats down beside Buffy.

“What now?” Buffy asks, as the wind howls and tugs at the branches overhead.

Faith slips the parka off. “Spread your legs,” she says.

“What?” Buffy asks, taken aback.

Rolling her eyes, Faith says, “So I can sit with you and share body heat. Don’t flatter yourself, princess.”

“I wasn’t—” Buffy sputters while Faith prods her knee aside.

Faith shuffles in between Buffy’s spread knees and sits down, her back to Buffy’s front. She pulls her knees up to her chest and pulls the coat over her. “Pull this back around you,” she says. Faith does her best to tuck their feet under the rest of the parka, then wraps her arms around Buffy’s knees, pulling them close to her sides. “I don’t wanna cuddle up any more than you do,” she says in a grumpy voice, “but isn’t this warmer?”

In spite of the snow at her back, she does feel a little warmer. Buffy makes what she thinks is an affirmative sound, wrapping her arms around Faith from behind. “I don’t mind,” she says, after a minute.

“What?”

“The cuddling up,” Buffy clarifies. “For warmth I mean.”

“Good,” Faith says. Then, “And not that I mind at this particular moment, but do you know your hand is on my boob, or do I need to check you for frostbite?”

Snatching her hand back quickly, Buffy readjusts, making sure both her gloved hands are situated well above Faith’s boobs. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Faith says, her head heavy against Buffy’s shoulder. “You should take the gloves off a while. Skin to skin contact is warmer.”  
  
“How do you know all this?” Buffy asks, following her instructions and tugging her gloves off. She rests her bare hands on Faith’s upper arms, rubbing up and down. Goosebumps spring up in her wake.

Faith takes the gloves from her and sets them down beside her booted feet. “There was this lady on my block,” she says, “had to be at least 80. Everyone called her Granny. She liked to watch Discovery Channel type shit, and no one wanted to be the one to tell Granny to change the channel. I’ve probably seen every episode of Extreme Survival they’ve made. Never thought I’d need to test my knowledge in real life.”

“You learned all this from TV?” Buffy asks, surprised.

“Wasn’t that much,” Faith says. “We just dug a hole.”

“It’s more than I knew to do,” Buffy points out.

Making a noncommittal noise, Faith shifts, tucking her feet closer to her body.  
  
After a minute, Buffy asks, “How come no one changed the channel? They didn’t want to hurt Granny’s feelings?”  
  
A laugh bursts from Faith’s throat. “No,” she says, “it was because Granny was a mean old bitch, and you’d wake up with a shank in the kidney if you crossed her.” She squeezes Buffy’s leg. “It’s cute how you thought everyone in women’s correctional just wanted the old lady to be happy though.”

“Shut up,” Buffy says, pinching her shoulder lightly.

Faith ignores that. “We’ll switch soon,” she says, “so you can be in front.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees. They lapse into silence, leaving Buffy with little to concentrate on other than the cold seeping in every place not covered by the coat or pressed against Faith. She lowers her face to Faith’s shoulder, trying to warm her cheeks and nose.

Faith turns her head, pressing her cheek to Buffy’s. Her skin is just as cold, and Buffy almost can’t feel it against hers. They’re both shivering, and she can feel Faith’s shoulders shifting under her hands as she tries to rub feeling back into her legs. Buffy’s wearing a base layer under her jeans, which is helping at least a little. She was supposed to be traveling to a remote village up North, to meet a contact who claimed to have a scroll they needed. She planned to be cold, but she didn’t plan to spend the night outdoors. She didn’t plan to spend the night at all, in fact. They planned a rendezvous point, where Willow would open her portal home, for just after sunset. Still, she’s better equipped than Faith.

It’s been months since they last saw each other. Even with the First Evil defeated, the new threats never seem to stop coming. Since creating the Slayer Organization, they’ve identified more than a thousand new slayers, and they’ve stopped at least half a dozen events with the potential to be major apocalypses. Buffy keeps herself busy with the day to day operations: identifying and training new slayers, figuring out who needs additional support on the ground and how best to give it to them, keeping abreast of the signs of new threats popping up around the world. All of them are spread thin these days, even with new people coming on board to help them all the time. Time seemed to pass in a blur, and before she knew it, they were six months out from Sunnydale, then a year, then 18 months.

So she hasn’t exactly had time to sit down and have coffee with her friend-turned enemy-turned ally again, but that’s never really been their thing anyway. Buffy’s made it her business to know where Faith is though—whether that’s because of lingering distrust or because she wants to know if she’s safe, she doesn’t know. When Faith has come around, their interactions have been few and far between. A conversation in passing, a quick spar session, a light hip check as they jockey for position in front of the coffee machine. It almost feels like when you run into your ex in the grocery store—you’re staring at this person who knows all the best and worst parts of you but now you’ve become strangers. Not that Faith is her ex, but how else do you describe someone who’s so literally gotten under your skin?

The vibes from Faith this morning were different ( _God, was that only this morning?_ ). She’d seemed on edge, uninterested in talking to Buffy at all. Ten minutes later she was following Buffy into the portal to wherever this is. Talk about mixed signals. Now, they’re cuddled up under a coat together, trying not to freeze to death. Even in the life of a slayer, this is weird. It’s probably also the closest they’ve been, physically, since the night Buffy tried to kill Faith. If Buffy had envisioned this exact scenario of life or death cuddling with Faith, which she _definitely_ didn’t, she would have thought it would be incredibly awkward. She and Faith have almost always been like oil and water—too quick to take offense to each other’s comments, eager to read judgment into each other’s stares.

But maybe it makes sense, in a way. The physical stuff—they always got that right. She and Faith slaying together were like two parts of the same whole, each anticipating the other’s movements and bracing each other’s weak points. Whatever part of each of them is _the slayer_ seemed to thrive on those moments. Buffy was never happier slaying than when they were doing it together, two instinctive hunters side by side. Right now, their bodies have been put through the ringer, both of them feeling the effects of the cold, the lack of food, and the punishing trek that brought them here. And like they’ve done before, they’re bolstering each other. Her spine is tingly in the way it only ever gets around Faith. Holding Faith against her chest, close enough to feel every breath she takes like it’s Buffy’s own… it’s strange. But not bad strange. Not awkward, like she’d have expected.

Faith’s given up on trying to rub warmth into her own legs, and has her arms back around Buffy’s knees, keeping them firmly sandwiched around her. She’s wearing only a thin t-shirt, most of the warmth she’s getting coming from Buffy. “You ready to switch?” She asks.

Buffy nods, and they reluctantly disentangle themselves. Pulling the hoodie over her head, Buffy hands it to Faith to put back on. She waits for Faith to get settled, then climbs between her legs and situates her back against Faith’s torso. Faith wraps her arms around Buffy, her breath warm by Buffy’s ear. Trying to make herself as small as possible, Buffy bundles the parka around them. “I’m so cold,” she says.

“I know.”

“I don’t understand why they haven’t found us yet.”

“They will,” Faith says.

Buffy hopes that she’s right. It must take a lot of power to interfere with Willow’s teleporting abilities. Willow’s basically the most powerful witch in the world, as far as Buffy knows, so who could really do that? Trying to mimic what Faith did when she was in front, Buffy wraps her arms around Faith’s legs and pulls them tightly to her sides. Faith’s jeans are cold and damp to the touch. “You’re not any warmer,” Buffy says, concerned. “Are your feet this cold?”

Faith shrugs, her shoulder bumping lightly into the back of Buffy’s head.

“Take off your boots,” Buffy says.

“Not gonna be any warmer with my bare feet on the snow,” Faith points out.

“You’re not going to put them in the snow,” Buffy says impatiently. “You’re going to put them on me.”

Faith’s quiet for a moment, then she says, “Okay.”

Trying to keep them both under the coat, they work together, with Faith lifting her foot and Buffy unlacing her boots. Buffy manages to get the boots off, and feels soggy socks underneath. She stifles a sigh and strips them off. Stretching her own legs out so that her feet are poking free of the parka, she pulls Faith’s feet into her lap. They’re ice cold, and when Buffy asks if she can feel them at all, Faith shakes her head. Reaching up, Buffy unwinds the wool scarf from around her own neck and brings it down to her lap. She wraps Faith’s feet in a messy bundle. Then she jams her hands inside the bundle, adding her own slight amount of heat to the mix.

“This is weird,” Faith says after a few minutes. She’s wrapped around Buffy like a monkey, her legs crossed to plant her feet on Buffy’s lap, her arms around Buffy’s stomach. Her cold nose is pressed to Buffy’s hat.

“Yeah, well, weird’s better than dead or toe-less,” Buffy says.

Faith snorts. “Gonna need all my toes to kick the ass of whoever sent us on this little trip,” she says. “You gonna tell me what you were doing up this way?”

“A few weeks ago,” Buffy says, “we got an unmarked package in the mail. It had some obscure book inside; Giles practically swooned when he saw it. There was a page marked. Something about the end of days coming, yadda yadda.”

“So, nothing new there.”

“Right,” Buffy agrees. “I guess this book hasn’t been seen in a few centuries, so Giles wasn’t sure this was the real deal. He reached out to his contacts and could only find three other mentions of the prophecy. I picked up one up earlier this week.”

“Guessing I picked up the second one?”

“Yeah. This would have been the third.”

Faith seems to be thinking about that for a few minutes. “What aren’t you telling me?” She asks. “Why are we doing simple delivery jobs? There are plenty of slayers who’ve been at this a while now.”

This will be the first time she’s discussed this outside of the safety of the castle walls. Buffy takes a deep breath. “Did you ever hear us talk about a demon called Acathla?”

Faith shakes her head.

“It’s your garden variety demon overlord,” Buffy says. “It wants to activate a doorway to its own dimension, suck the earth into hell, the usual. Acathla is trapped in stone, so it’s dormant unless someone can reactivate it.”

“And now someone wants to do that.”

“Yes,” Buffy agrees. “Acathla is missing.” She hasn’t yet gotten to the worst part, but Faith seems content to let her go at her own pace. “The prophecy says Acathla will be activated by a _telal,_ a warrior.”

“ _Telal,_ ” Faith says thoughtfully, “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s Sumerian,” Buffy says, “and the reason it sounds familiar is that the slayer was called the _telal_ in most of the earliest texts we have access to.”

Faith stiffens, her arms tightening around Buffy’s waist before she catches herself. “And you guys didn’t tell me about this because you think what—the _telal_ might be me?” Her voice is incredulous, and she starts shifting, trying to move her feet out of Buffy’s lap.

“No,” Buffy says, grabbing her ankles. “Faith, stop!”

She stops struggling, but Faith’s voice is sharp when she asks, “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this then?”

“Maybe because you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the organization?” Buffy suggests. “You wanna be in the club; you need to come to the meetings.”

“That’s bullshit,” Faith says from behind her.

“Is it?” Buffy snarks back.

They fume in silence for a few minutes, neither of them willing to shove the other away and out from under the cover of the coat they’re sharing. Overhead, the branches covering their makeshift cave shake in the gusty winds, allowing tiny bits of snow to drift down into the trench.

Finally, Buffy decides one of them will have to be the adult and continue the conversation, so it might as well be her. “I told Giles we couldn’t trust anyone else to get the information we needed,” she says, trying, and failing, to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “The only slayers I trust are you and me. I thought you’d be at the castle for a few days, and we’d have time to talk about it.”

Faith doesn’t immediately respond to that, but her body gradually relaxes, until her shoulder is soft behind Buffy’s head. “You have any idea who this _telal_ might be?”

“Not yet,” Buffy says.

After a minute, Faith asks, “You warm enough, with your feet out like that?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy assures her, even though her toes feel like little icicles. She’s got good boots. “Can you feel your feet yet?” Faith’s skin is starting to feel warmer under her hands.

“Mhmm,” Faith says, “and they hurt like a bitch.”

“Probably a good sign,” Buffy says.

Behind her, Faith tries to squeeze in closer, putting her chilled face against Buffy’s hair. Buffy presses back, pulling the parka tighter around her, trying to give more of it to Faith. “Let me know when you want to switch back,” she says.

Faith nods. Outside, the falling snow has become a full on blizzard, rising into a furious howl. Based on the position of the sun when they crash landed here, she would guess there’s likely another 11 hours or so before the sun rises enough for them to even think about leaving. Already she’s hungry and thirsty. It’s going to be a very long night.

XXXXX

Bright sunlight peeks unevenly through the thick brush covering the top of the trench, letting pinpricks of light dance across the dark green exterior of the parka. Buffy’s right leg is completely asleep, from her foot all the way through her ass. That probably has something to do with the way Faith is slumped a little to the right, the majority of her weight resting against Buffy’s leg. She’s been asleep for the last hour or so, her head lolled against Buffy’s shoulder. Not even Buffy’s occasional bouts of shivering have disturbed her.

With her arms around Faith’s waist, Buffy seems to be generating enough heat that Faith at least isn’t shivering outright. In sleep, her body is looser, resting more heavily against Buffy, which has made her warmer too. Even with the sun up, Buffy’s reluctant to climb back out of the trench and into the open air, where only one of them can be warm at a time. Plus, Faith’s finally asleep, after a long and restless night for both of them.

If someone would have told her yesterday morning that she’d be sitting here a day later, Faith cuddled up in her arms, loathe to get up and face the day, she’d have laughed outright. Being here now though… she can’t exactly complain about the company. If she has to be stranded in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard, there are worse people to be stranded with than Faith. She’s a slayer, so she’s a little hardier when faced with the elements. And sure, there are a whole slew of slayers around now, but most of them still look at her like she hung the moon. It was nice at first, but hero worship gets old quick. With Faith, she doesn’t have to pretend to have it all together, to know what they’re going to do next. She doesn’t have to pretend she’s not just as cold and scared that help isn’t coming.

Buffy’s fully intending to let Faith continue sleeping for a while more, but her stomach seems to have other ideas. It growls so loudly that Faith physically startles, snapping awake and tensing before she realizes where she is.

“Sorry,” Buffy says, “that was me.”

Faith pulls herself upright, not pulling away from Buffy, but leaning less heavily against her. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to eat a snack before you get magically kidnapped and dumped on Hoth?”

Buffy’s lip twitches. “I see you’ve been spending time with Andrew, too.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Faith gives her a pointed look. “I don’t need Andrew to tell me about _Star Wars_.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“You _haven’t_?”

Buffy shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

Shaking her head, Faith takes a look up at the slivers of outside world visible from their position. “Sorry I slept so long. You could have woken me so we could hit the road.”

“Looked like you needed it,” Buffy says, shrugging.

Faith’s socks are finally dry enough to be back on her feet, and she reluctantly unwraps Buffy’s scarf from around her feet before slipping them inside her still damp boots. She grimaces all the while. “You ready?” She asks Buffy when she has them laced again.

Buffy takes a last moment to savor the feeling of being relatively comfortable, then she nods. Faith, apparently believing in the rip the band aid off method, pulls the parka off the two of them, and rolls onto her knees. Discomfort is clear in her face.

“You okay?” Buffy asks, tentatively stretching her limbs out as well. A sensation of pins and needles begins in her right leg.

“Fine,” Faith says, although she’s rolling her neck and stretching both arms out. “Let me have the hoodie,” she says. “You wear the coat first.”

Reaching over her head, Buffy pulls the hoodie up and off, holding it out to Faith. She pulls the parka around herself, zipping up before handing her gloves and scarf to Faith. Together, they move the branches covering the top of the trench, and poke their heads out into the morning light.

The world outside looks much the same as it did the day before, although their footprints have been completely covered, and the pile of snow they placed to break the wind has grown quite expansively. Faith climbs out first, her feet sinking into the snow well above the top of her boots. Holding out a hand to Buffy, she pulls her from the trench. When she’s standing on solid ground once more, she’s sunk in several inches, with the snow below the top of her knee-high boots, but not by much. Buffy’s heart sinks. It’s going to take them much longer to cover the same amount of ground as yesterday, and Faith’s feet and legs are going to be submerged and wet for most of that time.

XXXXX

By the time Buffy asks, “Do you hear that?” Faith’s teeth are chattering so hard she’s beginning to get a headache. It’s her turn again to wear the parka, so her torso is warm at least, but she can’t feel her feet or her legs below the knee. She’s been feeling sluggish for a while now, and each step feels harder to take. Grateful for the excuse to pause, Faith stops walking and turns her face slightly from the wind, trying to listen.

It takes a few moments before her brain successfully processes what she’s hearing. She looks at Buffy and smiles. “Water.”

“Water,” Buffy agrees, setting off again at a quicker pace.

Faith struggles to keep up behind her, her heart pounding quicker than it normally would from such little exertion. Buffy doesn’t seem to be having the same issue, and she moves easily through the trees surrounding them. She’s almost out of sight when she finally stops and turns back to look for Faith. Spotting her, Buffy grins and waves wildly.

When Faith reaches the edge of the tree line, Buffy’s already climbed down onto the riverbank, and is craning her neck to look further upstream. In spite of her exhaustion, Faith feels a little kernel of excitement at finding the river. Parts of it are frozen, but the ice doesn’t look very thick. There’s a possibility that people use the river for fishing or for transport, and they might stumble upon two lost slayers parked riverside. Barring that, the river means fresh water and food, both of which they’re going to need sooner rather than later.

Buffy scrambles up the bank, coming back to her side. She’s shivering, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet so she doesn’t have to stand still. “Do you think it’s safe to drink?” She asks. “Not that I really want to stick my hand in it.”

“No,” Faith says, “but our bodies can probably fight off most bacteria or whatever is in it.”

Looking at the river uncertainly, Buffy seems to be weighing their options. “Should we wait a little while longer?” She suggests. “There’s a bend up ahead, maybe half a mile. We can walk down and if we don’t see anything else, we’ll have to try it. I’m not sure how much longer I can go without drinking something. My mouth feels like sandpaper.”

Faith feels the same. She’s starting to feel a little dizzy, and her stomach aches with emptiness.

“What about the snow?” Buffy suggests.

That one she actually does remember hearing about, but for the life of her, she can’t remember exactly what. “I’m not sure,” she admits.

Sighing, Buffy says, “Okay. You good to keep walking?”

She’s not really, but what’s the alternative? Faith nods and unzips the coat. “Your turn.”

They trade, hoodie for coat, and set off again, backtracking slightly into the trees for more even terrain. Faith’s so focused on the walk ahead of them, on not falling with each labored step, that she doesn’t notice anything different about the surrounding trees at first. It isn’t until she feels particularly dizzy and has to pause for breath, leaning against a tree for balance, that she spots it. A hundred yards away, in the opposite direction of the river, she can just make out what might be the corner of a structure. She glances skyward but finds no sign of smoke.

Buffy’s focused on her, poised and ready to catch her if she falls over.

Faith tilts her head in the general direction she’s looking. “Looks like there’s something back there.”

Immediately, Buffy turns, looking through the trees. “I see it,” she says. “Stay here a second, catch your breath. I’ll check it out.”

“No way,” Faith says, quickly straightening up although the motion makes black spots swim in front of her eyes. “You go wandering up to some shack in the woods and next thing you know someone’s telling you you got a real purdy mouth. I’m going with you.”

Giving her an exasperated look, Buffy says, “I think I can handle it.” Nevertheless, she sticks close to Faith’s side as they move in the direction of whatever’s out in the woods.

At first Faith isn’t sure what exactly this place is—a shed maybe? It’s only about 5 feet tall, with one door and a window covered from the inside. The log structure was clearly constructed by hand, with rough sawed ends on each log, and what looks like mud sealing in the spaces between the logs.

“Some kind of hunting cabin?” Buffy asks, circling the exterior. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long, long time.”

It also doesn’t look like it’s going to have heating, plumbing, or electric, but beggars can’t be choosers, so Faith walks over to the door and unlatches the piece of wood holding it closed. It opens easily, the light from the opening illuminating the entirety of the tiny structure. Whatever it was originally intended for, it’s clear it wasn’t meant to house more than one person for any length of time. Faith can touch both the front and back walls at the same time if she stretches her arms out. The place is composed of a built in bunk large enough for one average sized person, a miniscule fireplace near the foot of the bunk, and a large metal box with a crude pipe leading into the exterior wall. A dusty skillet sits atop the box, so she figures it for some kind of stove.

To even get inside, Buffy has to crowd behind Faith, forcing her further into the cabin. “This is cozy,” she says diplomatically. Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Faith sits down on the bunk, wrapping her arms around herself. This is the coldest she’s ever been, and that includes one brutal winter in Boston when they hadn’t yet been evicted from their apartment but had no heat. She’s all but stopped shaking now, her teeth no longer chattering, but she doesn’t think that’s necessarily a good thing. Her body feels heavy around her, and even breathing feels like it’s taking more effort than it should.

Buffy closes the door behind her, leaving the small room lit only by the light creeping through the fabric window covering. She pokes into the few nooks and crannies in the cabin, unearthing a dented pot from behind the stove. A pail with some rags sits beside the stove, along with a walking stick and an ancient looking wooden hoop with leather netting attached. Reaching around under the bunk, she unearths a rucksack and pulls at the lacing holding it closed. “Jackpot,” she says after a minute, reaching in and pulling out an only slightly moth eaten blanket. “Feels like wool.” She stands up and shakes it out. Dust escapes freely, and Faith sneezes.

“Sorry,” Buffy says, setting the blanket down beside Faith. She sticks her hands back in the pack and pulls free a rolled up animal hide of some sort. She grimaces slightly but unrolls it. It’s dark brown, taller than her when all the way straightened out. “This is good,” Buffy says, half to herself. “We can work with this.” She looks down at Faith. “We can stay here, wait for them to find us.”

Faith nods tiredly. “We need a fire,” she says, “unless we wanna take our chances with the river water.”

That takes some of the wind out of Buffy’s sails. “Do you know how to make a fire?”

Reaching under the sweatshirt, Faith fumbles in her jeans pocket. She pulls out a plastic lighter and holds it up. “And you said smoking would kill me.”

Staring at the lighter reverently, Buffy says, “I could kiss you right now.”

“I figured we’d start with managing the dehydration and hypothermia,” Faith says dryly, “but I guess we have time to—”

The hide hits her lightly in the face, earning a laugh from Buffy. “I’ll get some wood then,” Buffy says, when Faith shoves the hide out of her face and glares at her.

“Small sticks to start,” Faith says. “Dry, if you can find them.”

It’s a tall order, but Buffy nods.

Forcing herself to stand up again, Faith ignores the sharp pain that comes from one of her feet. “I’m gonna shake this out,” she says, picking up the blanket. “Outside.”

XXXXX

Buffy perches behind her anxiously as Faith tries for what must be the fiftieth time, to get the little nest of twigs to catch flame. “It’s too wet,” she says, looking at the remaining fluid in the lighter. There isn’t enough left to keep trying this indefinitely. “I need something dry.”

She sits back on her heels, fingers grubby with dirt, thumb forming a blister from how many times she’s tried to light this stack. The pail of rags appears at her elbow. “These are pretty dry,” Buffy suggests. “Maybe one of them will catch.”

She’s willing to try it. Faith plucks one free, then sets it among the gathering of sticks she’s made. “Here goes nothing,” she mutters, flicking the lighter to life and bringing the flame to the edge of the rag. For a moment, nothing happens, then the entire rag is on fire. “Holy shit,” Faith says, snatching her hand back out of the fireplace. She leans forward, blowing carefully at the flames. “More tinder,” she says, between breaths. Desperately hoping the little sticks in the fireplace pick up the flame, she keeps blowing while Buffy rustles around behind her.

Finally, she sees the first of the twigs glowing red, its skin crackling and breaking. She reaches behind her, taking the additional wood Buffy presses into her hand. She doesn’t stop feeding it until the fire looks well and truly established, with thick smoke thankfully making its way up and out through the chimney, rather than becoming trapped in the room with them.

“Fire pretty,” Buffy says from behind her, sounding seriously relieved.

Faith scoots backward, so there’s room for Buffy to stand beside her in the slight heat. Reaching for the pail, she pulls another rag free and lifts it to her face, smelling it.

“What is it?” Buffy asks.

“I don’t know,” Faith says. “It smells kind of sweet. Maybe some kind of tree sap?”

Buffy lifts the pail, stashing it under the bunk. “We’ll save the rest in case we need to start from scratch again.”

After that, they divide and conquer, with Buffy going out to collect a pot full of snow, and Faith managing to get a decent fire going in the metal stove, courtesy of a coal from their first fire. They drink the first pot of water in minutes, barely waiting for it to be cool enough to tolerate. While the second one boils, Buffy makes herself busy, disappearing with the apparent fishing net she’s found. Faith takes the axe out and wreaks havoc on some of the surrounding trees, stacking wood under the bunk for easy access.

Buffy comes back with a small fish, and it looks like barely enough for each of them to get a few bites, but she’s so damn proud of herself, that Faith can’t bring herself to tease her. The fish ends up even smaller once they’ve pan-fried the living daylights out of it. Faith counts about four bites each, bones and all, but it’s something to ease the ache in her stomach. The sun’s beginning to set when Buffy refills their pot with fresh snow and comes back inside, latching the door behind her. She putters around, starting the water to boil, spreading the animal hide across the bunk, and the (slightly less dusty) blanket atop that. And annoying Faith.

“You should take your boots off,” she says, coming to a stop in front of where Faith is sitting on the ground, watching the fire and occasionally poking it with a stick. “It’s warm enough now.”

She no longer feels so sluggish, but every inch of her feet and most of her legs are painful right now. The idea of sliding boots, socks, or jeans off sounds vaguely akin to sliding a cheese grater along her bare skin, so Faith shakes her head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You need to dry out your socks and shoes,” Buffy points out reasonably. “Plus you’ll be warmer.”

“It’s like 10 degrees warmer in here than it is out there,” Faith answers.

“It’s at least 20 more,” Buffy insists, sitting down beside her in the small space. She ignores Faith’s protests and grabs one of her boots, quickly unlacing it. Faith inhales sharply when she starts to tug the boot free and a spike of pain flares up in her foot. “Jesus, B, I said no!” Her voice is too loud for the small space, and Faith catches herself, lowering it before continuing. “I don’t need you to pretend to give a shit about me, okay? I can take care of myself.”

The words are out before she can stop them. She doesn’t mean to start a fight with Buffy; she really doesn’t. They’re getting along well, all things considered, and they need each other to get through however long they’re stuck here. This is not the time to let any resentments bubble up.

Hurt is evident in Buffy’s face, quickly replaced by anger. “I’m not pretending.”

The fact that Buffy has the nerve to say that breaks through the last of her resolve to dial this back. “Yeah?” Faith challenges. “Because you and me are such besties?”

“Do you have a bestie, Faith? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you want to be by yourself. You won’t let anybody care about you.”

“Probably looks like that because you’re sitting on that high horse,” Faith says.

“Whatever,” Buffy says. “You’re ridiculous.” She stands back up, moving to the other side of the cabin to check on their water.

Faith doesn’t bother getting up onto her sore feet. “Sorry I’m not more like you,” she says sarcastically. “You’re making lots of new friends, right?”

The water is boiling, and Buffy uses the sleeve of the parka to cover her hand as she moves it aside to cool. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, half annoyed, half distracted. “It’s hard to get to know most of the newbies. Everybody passes through the castle so quickly.”  
  
“Satsu was there a while, I guess.”  
  
Freezing for a second, Buffy turns slowly, looking at Faith.

Faith doesn’t know why she brought this up. Why she threw it in Buffy’s face like that. It’s none of her business who Buffy sleeps with.

“That place is worse than high school,” Buffy says in a tight voice. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”  
  
“So, it’s true then.” Some small part of Faith still hadn’t really believed it could be. Buffy wasn’t interested in women. Hadn’t that been painfully clear back in Sunnydale, the first go round, when Faith did everything but stand outside her window with a boom box, and Buffy hadn’t so much as batted an eye?

Shrewd hazel eyes swing to Faith’s face, and Faith has force herself not to look away. “That’s why you’re being such an ass?” Buffy asks, sounding confused.

Time to back out of this conversation before shit gets too real. This is exactly why she shouldn’t have brought this up. “No,” Faith says, “just my natural state.”

Buffy snorts like she agrees with that.

“Pretty sure my feet are fucked,” Faith adds, just to keep Buffy from returning to talking about the bug up Faith’s butt.

The expression on her face says wheels are turning in Buffy’s head, but she mercifully goes with Faith’s change in topic. “Then let me help you,” she says, sounding exasperated.

Faith nods reluctantly, and Buffy comes back to the floor to sit across from her. She’s gentler this time, trying not to jostle Faith’s foot as she slips her boot off. Once she’s freed Faith’s feet from both her boots, Buffy gingerly grasps the top of one sock, and pulls it down. Faith’s toes are red and bulbous, with her littlest toe almost purple. Blistering has begun on several of the digits, and the rest of her foot is red and clearly irritated. That trend seems to continue onto her legs. “Well,” Buffy says, with forced calm, “that’s not good.” The second foot doesn’t fare any better.

Deliberately not looking at the shape her feet are in, Faith pokes at the fire some more, keeping it hot.

“Let’s get you on the bunk,” Buffy says. “Try to elevate your feet.”

“I gotta keep the fire stoked.”

“It’ll be fine,” Buffy says. “I’ll add another log.” She stands up and holds her hands down for Faith to take.

Faith takes them, wincing as she puts weight on her bare feet. She tries to keep most of her weight in her heels, but it still hurts.

Gesturing to her jeans, Buffy says, “Those too. They need to dry out.”

“Yours are wet too,” Faith points out.

Looking down, Buffy shrugs, then bends to unlace her boots. She struggles out of them, stashing them below the bunk and out of the way, then straightens up. Giving Faith a pointed look, she unbuttons her jeans.

Bluff called, Faith undoes hers as well, pushing them down her hips. Her skin is still cool to the touch, but thankfully its normal shade for most of the way down her legs. It’s only from just above her knees to her feet that’s pink and tender.

Buffy removes her jeans fully, then lays them out on the floor, the damp part closest to the fire.

“That’s cheating,” Faith says, when she notices Buffy’s got long johns on and she’s standing here in underwear, starting to feel even colder.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her base layer. She discards it quickly, folding the pants and tucking them under the bunk with her boots. “Now that we’re both freezing, can you get under the blanket?” She asks, holding out her hand for Faith’s jeans.

Hobbling slightly, Faith settles onto the bunk while Buffy spreads her jeans out to dry.

Once she’s done, Buffy pulls her thermal off as well, rolling it into a neat ball. “Give me the hoodie,” she suggests. “I need to prop your feet up.”

Trying not to look at Buffy’s bare legs, or her shoulders, or the skin between the bottom of her tank top and the top of her panties, Faith removes her hoodie and hands it over. She lies down, scooting as close to the wall as she can, and obediently lifts her feet for Buffy to put the bundled up hoodie under them. Her skin feels impossibly tight and sore around her feet and ankles, alternating between feeling numb and so warm it’s painful. Buffy carefully positions the hoodie, then turns her attention to Faith’s legs. She touches the skin just above Faith’s knee lightly, and in spite of the fact that she’s exhausted and in pain, Faith feels her stomach flip flop. “Legs look better than the feet anyway,” Buffy says.

She positions the blanket over Faith gently, then stoops to get another log from under the bunk. She adds it to the fire, considers, and adds another. Then she lifts the edge of the blanket, trying to squeeze in beside Faith.

This bunk really wasn’t made for two, and even lying on her side, it’s hard for Buffy to fit in. They maneuver, Faith trying to squeeze further over while keeping her feet up, and Buffy finally having to lie cradled in Faith’s arm just to be fully on the bunk. Buffy’s arm comes across Faith’s waist, providing herself some additional stability.

Buffy’s thighs are cold where they press against hers. Her stomach rests against Faith’s hip. “This okay?” She asks after a moment, probably because she can hear the increase in Faith’s breathing.

“Yeah,” Faith says, trying to make sure her hand stays only in the middle of Buffy’s back, over the tank top she’s still wearing. It’s a little _too_ okay, and Faith blames her slayer senses going haywire for the fact that she’s suddenly feeling less like passing out, and more like making out. Freaking senses don’t know the difference between being hungry, injured, and exhausted because you slayed some vamps, and being hungry, injured, and exhausted because you’re lost in the wilderness without access to food, shelter, or sufficient clothing. Apparently her body just thinks that feeling like shit means a job well done, time to move on to getting laid. 

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re fine,” Faith says, although this is definitely not fine. She left her apartment two mornings ago after tossing a little extra food in the fish tank on her way out the door, intending to be back home later that same day. Instead she’s in freaking Antarctica or something, toes potentially about to fall off, with Buffy spooned to her side, soft bare skin feeling almost good enough to block out the unpleasantness in her feet. Buffy, who apparently has a girlfriend back at the castle. Unable to resist poking the bear at least a little, Faith offers, “The near naked spooning thing will be our little secret.”

Buffy rolls her eyes but smiles. “Thanks,” she says, “I can just imagine the rumor mill now.”

“Wouldn’t want that to get back to your girl.”

“My… huh?” Buffy asks, sounding confused again. Then she leans back to look at Faith’s face, nearly tumbling out of bed. “You mean Satsu?” She asks, as Faith steadies her. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Some little part of Faith brightens considerably when she hears that. She looks at Buffy closely, then prods further, “You sleep with her and find out you’re not really into chicks?”

Buffy turns a little pink. “No, being into girls is definitely not the problem,” she says softly. “I thought you of all people would know that.”

Puzzling that over for a second, Faith tries to make it make sense. When it doesn’t, she says, “Huh?”

“Okay,” Buffy says under her breath, “I guess it was just me then.”

“ _What_ was just you?”

Buffy shifts, seeming self-conscious. “When you first came to town,” she clarifies. “I thought we had… a vibe, but I guess it was just me.”

She must be misunderstanding something. There’s no way Buffy can possibly be saying that she was into Faith. This must be lingering delirium from the dehydration, or hypothermia, or maybe she’s got frostbite in her eardrums and she isn’t hearing right. “You’re telling me you had a crush on me?” Faith asks uncertainly, fully expecting Buffy to laugh in her face.

“Well,” Buffy says, “yeah. I thought you knew.”

“I did _not_ know,” Faith says immediately. If she’d known, she’d have wasted a lot less time moping around those nights after patrol, wishing she’d worked up the nerve to steal a kiss, or even take Buffy’s hand while they walked home.

“Well,” Buffy says, red faced but gamely trying to sound nonchalant, “now you do.”

“When?” Faith asks, dumbfounded.

Her mouth twitching into a little smile, Buffy says, “Probably from the time you first got there up until things… went bad.”

The fire sizzles and pops loudly. For the first time since yesterday, Faith finally feels like she’s not freezing. “I think about Sunnydale sometimes,” she says quietly.

Buffy looks up at her.

“The one thing that he— _the Mayor_ —never asked me to do was kill you,” Faith says. She expects to feel Buffy tense up or pull away, but Buffy does neither, just watches Faith’s face. “I think he knew I wouldn’t have been able to,” Faith adds. “I think he knew how I felt about you.” She can’t bring herself to look Buffy directly in the eyes, so she stares past her shoulder at the fire. “My whole life,” she says, “there have only been two people who really gave a shit about me… tried to be there for me. That’s you and Angel.” Faith almost doesn’t say the next part. She thinks about just leaving it there. Maybe that’s enough. But Buffy’s still watching her with those big eyes, still waiting for whatever she’s going to say next. So Faith says, “That’s probably why I don’t come around much. It’s hard seeing you sometimes. Because I know that you were that person for me, and I ruined that.” She licks her lips. “So... it wasn’t just you.”

It’s quiet a moment, and Faith studies the shadows the fire makes on the rugged walls of their little cabin, wondering if she’s said too much. Buffy lifts her hand from Faith’s waist, and Faith thinks she’s going to roll away, get up, maybe add a log to the fire and tell Faith they’ll split up the blankets and sleep apart. She told Faith about a crush she had when they were still kids, and Faith has just confessed to so much more. But Buffy doesn’t move away. Instead, she touches Faith’s cheek, cold fingertips light as a feather. She waits until Faith looks back at her. “And now?” Buffy asks. “Is it just me now?”

Faith shakes her head.

Buffy angles her chin up and presses firmer into Faith’s side. Faith leans in. Their foreheads touch, noses bumping lightly. They hang in the moment, looking at each other too close up, each waiting for the other to take the next step. Buffy’s eyes are soft, her lips just barely parted, and Faith feels like she’s sixteen again, wanting so badly to kiss her, but totally paralyzed with nervousness.

When Buffy kisses her, Faith’s too astonished to move for a second. She’s half convinced that she actually just fried her brain when she jumped into that portal and this is all one big hallucination. But it feels real enough, when Buffy’s fingers slide behind her ear into her hair, when the warmth of her shaky breathing hits Faith’s cold skin. Buffy’s gentle, like it’s Faith’s _face_ that’s injured, and Faith lets her be. Savors the careful way Buffy strokes through her hair, the soft, fleeting pressure of Buffy’s mouth against her lips, off center, then again, this time perfectly lined up, fitting together like they were made to do this.

Her arm tightens around Buffy’s back automatically, then she’s moving, ignoring the way it makes her feet ache when she turns on her side, and bringing her hand up to Buffy’s neck.

This is far from perfect. The cabin is still a little too cold for comfort. Faith’s hand immediately snags on a snarl in Buffy’s hair. One of their stomachs is growling, and for the life of her, Faith can’t say whose. But isn’t this just the way it _would_ go with them? They’re five years behind schedule and in the middle of a crisis, but Faith wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world. The closest she’s ever been to happy was when she was killing things with Buffy by her side. She doesn’t need perfect. Wouldn’t even know what to do with it. All she needs is Buffy, accidentally bumping her toes into one of Faith’s aching calves and smiling against Faith’s mouth like she won the lottery.

Buffy’s hand steals under the back of her t-shirt, fingertips stroking up her spine, and Faith sighs into the kiss, her back arching slightly. She forgets to feel cold, everything in her focused on Buffy’s mouth, Buffy’s hands, Buffy’s knee creeping over Faith’s thigh and pulling her in closer. It’s not like the fantasies she had all those years ago. They’re not bursting into Faith’s room after a hard kill, tearing each other’s clothes off. She can’t lay Buffy down and disappear between her legs, licking every inch of her until Buffy’s crying her name.

What she _can_ do is pull the strap of Buffy’s tank top down and kiss the soft skin of her shoulder. She can taste the salt of exertion lingering there. She can feel the muscles in Buffy’s leg tense and tremble when Faith slides her hand along her thigh. She can hear the sound of Buffy’s heartbeat quickening when Faith sits up and tugs her own shirt up and off. She can see the way Buffy’s mouth curls up when she sees Faith’s nipples through the soft cotton of her bra, hard and tight and waiting. And she can smell that Buffy’s just as wet as she is.

Buffy unhooks Faith’s bra and helps her discard it before she removes her own shirt. Faith could look at Buffy all night, but the room is still too chilly. They lay with the blanket up to their shoulders, hands underneath finding their way around new curves and valleys. Faith takes her time memorizing every discovery she makes: the soft curve of Buffy’s belly, the way she squirms when Faith’s hand moves up her ribs, the soft groan she makes when Faith pinches her nipple. Faith finds the scar on her back courtesy of a Turok-Han’s sword and the little mole on her left breast. When her thumb starts to rub circles up Buffy’s inner thigh, she finds her hands are shaking. This isn’t anything she hasn’t done before, but this is Buffy. And Buffy is everything.

“We don’t have to…” Buffy says, misunderstanding her hesitation.

“No,” Faith says, “I want to.” She kisses Buffy again, slowly, softly, and her hand finds its way to the waistband of Buffy’s underwear. She slips underneath, fingers encountering damp curls, then hot, slick skin. Faith takes this slowly too, giving herself time to savor the feeling of Buffy in her hand, swollen and wanting.

Buffy clings to her, one hand in between them resting on Faith’s breast, the other digging into Faith’s back. Her hips jerk forward when Faith brushes her clit. Faith gives her what she wants, settling two fingers over her clit and starting to circle.

Head resting heavily against Faith’s arm, Buffy seems deep in concentration. Her eyebrows are drawn together, eyes squeezed closed, the pink of her tongue visible between her parted lips. Faith watches Buffy’s face as she moves her fingers, every twitch of her lips, every flutter of eyelashes against her cheek. The flush that spreads up her chest to her neck.

Buffy’s legs drift gradually closer together, her thighs coming in to cradle Faith’s wrist between them. She pants in fits and starts, left hand toying with Faith’s nipple occasionally, until she loses track of what she’s doing.

She’s never been much on talking herself, but when Buffy says, “Oh God, Faith…” in a breathless voice, Faith finds her own pussy aching even harder.

“That good?” Faith asks, her voice low.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says back, tongue darting out to wet her lips, “so good.”

Buffy’s legs quiver around her hand, and Faith picks up her pace a little. She could do this all day and never get tired of watching pleasure sweeping through Buffy’s face, but the strong hand on her back pulls her closer. Gripping Buffy back just as firmly, Faith dips her lips to where Buffy’s neck meets her shoulder and kisses her.

The blanket slips down their bodies, and Faith follows it with her mouth, kissing Buffy’s collarbone and the top of her breast. She doesn’t even feel the chill of the cabin air. Every part of her is focused on the way Buffy’s rocking her hips against Faith’s hand, the scrape of her nails into Faith’s back, the soft sounds she’s making into Faith’s hair.

Faith can’t stop kissing every bit of skin she can reach. Can’t stop thinking incredulously about the fact that she’s touching _Buffy_. She’s wanted Buffy since the moment the two of them stood panting in a warehouse, Kakistos’s dust under their boots. She wanted her when they were friends, wanted her somehow even more when they were enemies. When she was wearing Buffy’s skin, when she was going through the mind numbing routine of prison day in and out, when she was watching Buffy unravel in front of a bunch of potentials, brittle and exhausted. Wanting Buffy is one of the only constant things in her life, and now this is happening. It’s real. It’s _her_ name Buffy’s gasping, _her_ shoulder covered in bright red scratches from Buffy’s unconscious clawing, _her_ touch making Buffy tremble.

She’s soaking wet now, panties no longer any match for the effect this is having on her. Faith holds Buffy as her legs clamp closed and she murmurs _Faith yes yes Faith,_ as she shakes harder and her whole body tenses. Buffy comes, panting in Faith’s ear, her arm like a vise around her, and her foot knocks into Faith’s shin again. Faith barely feels the pain of it.

She feels it a minute later, when Buffy finally slumps, boneless and heavy against her, but she ignores it. Buffy parts her legs just enough for Faith to extract her hand, but otherwise doesn’t make a move to put any space between them. Faith doesn’t mind in the slightest. She pulls the blanket back up to their shoulders, her other hand stroking up and down Buffy’s back while Buffy catches her breath.

When Buffy finally relaxes her hold on Faith a little and leans her head back to look at her, Faith kisses her forehead. Buffy’s eyes roam Faith’s face for a second, before seeing the marks she left in Faith’s shoulder. She winces in sympathy. “Ouch,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Faith shrugs. “You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?”

Smiling, Buffy shakes her head. She shifts, giving Faith some room to roll on her back, while Buffy props herself on one elbow, looking down at her. The arm still around Faith withdraws a bit, her hand settling at Faith’s waist. Her thumb brushes the scar on Faith’s side, and the smile falters on her face. They look at each other in the firelight. “Sorry,” Buffy whispers, pulling her hand back, “I didn’t mean to…”

Faith shakes her head, catching Buffy’s hand. She pulls it back, places Buffy’s fingers on her scar. “It’s just skin,” she says. Buffy leaves her hand there and leans in to kiss Faith. It’s gentle, until Buffy’s hand wanders lower, and then it isn’t. Faith feels about ten seconds from spontaneous combustion already. It won’t take much for Buffy to get her off.

The slow decent of Buffy’s fingers over her stomach is torturous, and Faith has to fight the urge to grab Buffy’s wrist and shove her hand into her underwear. Buffy goes at her own pace, her other hand still on Faith’s chest. Strong fingers press and roll her nipple, switching to the other one when Faith whimpers against Buffy’s mouth.

Buffy’s hand fits over Faith, on top of her underwear. She makes a noise half between a laugh and a moan when she feels how drenched Faith’s panties are. “ _God_ , I want you,” Buffy whispers, when she takes a break from sucking Faith’s lower lip.

Faith’s eyes are closed. She’s aching for Buffy to touch her, needing more than this light caress. “You can have me,” she says, her hips jumping when Buffy squeezes her lightly in response. “Please…”

“What can I have?” Buffy asks, dipping one finger under the fabric separating her hand from Faith’s skin. Her knuckle just barely slips between Faith’s labia before she pulls back.

Making a pleading noise, Faith says, “Anything.”

“Anything?” Buffy asks. A second finger joins the first, the back of her fingers gliding over sensitive skin.

“ _Anything_ ,” Faith agrees, trying to press herself harder against Buffy’s hand.

Buffy bites her lip lightly, then runs her tongue over it again. “I think you’re promising a little more than you can deliver right now with the injuries and all,” she teases, “but I’ll remember that for later.” She punctuates her sentence by pressing her fingers between Faith’s lips and dragging them up her slit. Finding Faith’s clit, she circles it gently, then a little harder.

Faith’s pussy is already tightening at the little shocks of pleasure Buffy’s producing in her. Buffy’s still kissing her, doing most of the work as Faith can only half focus on what she’s doing with her mouth. Faith’s hands run absently all over Buffy, her breasts, the small of her back, the flexing muscle in her arm, the roundness of her ass. Every bit of Buffy she gets to touch only makes this better and better.

When Buffy stops kissing her, Faith opens her eyes to find Buffy watching her face. Buffy’s red faced, her hair half fallen over her eye. Faith can see her shoulder rotating with every motion of her hand under the blanket. Her lower lip is caught in her teeth in concentration, but she smiles when Faith looks back at her and swirls her fingers a little faster.

Faith groans, her eyes fluttering closed again. “B…”

Buffy presses her chest closer against Faith’s.

“I’m so close,” Faith says, squeezing her tighter in return.

Buffy moves faster, the speed of her arm shaking them both as well as the bunk. It might break beneath them at this rate, but Faith can’t really bring herself to care. Her breathing is ragged, every exhale an _mmmm_ of approval. Her legs start to quiver.

Buffy says, “I wanna feel you come,” and Faith nods harder than is strictly necessary. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s agreeing to until Buffy’s fingers leave her clit, move down her slit, and push inside her.

“Fuck,” Faith half says, half whimpers, and then Buffy is pressing her palm against Faith’s clit, sliding rhythmically back and forth as she pulls her fingers back and plunges in again.

Faith’s pussy squeezes painfully tight around Buffy’s hand. She’s dimly aware that she’s crushing Buffy against her, but Buffy’s fingers are as deep as she can get them, and she’s _still_ trying to get deeper, and it hurts just a little, just the way she likes it. And then she’s coming, and Buffy’s moaning against her ear as she feels Faith’s muscles contracting around her hand. Faith stops being able to think then, can only feel Buffy’s hands and Buffy’s mouth.

She comes back to reality slowly. The blanket’s half thrown off them. A strand of Buffy’s hair is stuck to Faith’s lip, and she’s pretty sure she full on kicked the bunk, by the way her right foot is smarting.

Buffy pulls her hand away carefully, kissing Faith when she winces at the feeling of Buffy’s fingers pulling free. Leaning down, Buffy keeps kissing her, moving down her neck.

This is the part she doesn’t really do. The after. But this is _Buffy_. And Faith’s arm doesn’t seem to want to move from around her. Faith’s eyes don’t want to stop looking down at the top of her head while Buffy’s pressing lazy soft kisses to her neck. When Buffy looks up, those big hazel eyes meeting hers, Faith finds a sudden lump lodged in her throat. 

Buffy kisses her again, softly, her thumb brushing away a tear that slides free of Faith’s eye and races for her hair. She doesn’t say anything about it, just prods at Faith’s back, pushing her toward Buffy a little, and Faith goes, turning toward her and pressing her forehead to Buffy’s shoulder. Faith’s eyes well again and a few more tears slip down her face, landing on Buffy’s shoulder. This is a weird and not entirely welcome new post orgasm development, and she’s a little freaked out by it. Buffy doesn’t seem to be. She just rubs Faith’s back soothingly.

When Faith feels like she has herself under control again, she peers over Buffy’s shoulder. “We should put another log on,” she says.

“I’ll get it,” Buffy offers. She pulls the covers back from herself and swings her legs out of the bunk. Goosebumps immediately rise on her bare skin, and she hastens to pull another two logs out from under the bunk and arrange them on the fire.

Holding the blanket up for her, Faith tucks it back around Buffy as she climbs on the bunk and into Faith’s arms. Her skin is already cooler, and her hard nipples press into Faith’s chest as she settles back in. Typically by now, Faith would be rolling out of bed, pulling her clothes back on, and heading for the door (or showing her partner where to find it, if it’s her place). There’s nowhere to go now, but she doesn’t want to get up anyway. Buffy’s touching her again, her hand running over Faith’s hip, down her thigh, over her ass and back. Once again, Faith has that feeling of disbelief that this is really happening. That Buffy’s burrowed into her arms, just as eager to keep touching and caressing Faith as Faith is to touch her.

They stay like that, the fire crackling quietly, the flames chasing the shadows away from their faces. Soft touches become more insistent, and their mouths come back together, tongues and lips seeking, meeting, exploring. By the time the sun makes its meandering way over the horizon again, the last log lays smoldering in the fire. Faith’s head rests on Buffy’s chest, her arm loosely draped over Buffy’s stomach. They sleep real sleep for the first time since they crash-landed here, shared body heat keeping them warm beneath the scratchy wool blanket.

XXXXX

Squatting on the riverbank, Buffy studies the activity under the surface. She’s caught two small fish so far, but they need more than that. She needs at least two more before she can go back to the cabin. Faith’s feet have healed quite a bit overnight, thanks to slayer mojo, but she needs fuel to keep her body going. She spots another small fish, its silvery scales picking up the bright light of the sun. Steadying the net in her hand, Buffy rolls back her sleeve and prepares to plunge her hand into the freezing cold water.

A tingling feeling begins in the back of her neck, and she freezes, her eyes narrowing. She looks across the river at the opposite bank. Finding nothing there, she slowly turns, looking into the trees behind her. Buffy gets to her feet, still clutching the fishing net, at the exact moment that Kennedy steps out of the trees much further down the river. Even from the distance, Buffy can see the relieved look on her face. She raises her hand in greeting, and Kennedy waves back, letting her know she’s seen her.

_Thank God,_ Buffy thinks, or more likely, _Thank Willow._ The rescue team has finally arrived. She and Faith can be back in the castle and in nice warm showers (or maybe just one shower) within the hour. Behind Kennedy, a second slayer steps out of the trees and peers down the river. The sun makes Satsu’s hair almost glitter in the light. She waves to Buffy, and Buffy waves back, her enthusiasm dampened slightly. It’s not that Satsu doesn’t know the deal—Buffy’s told her nothing more is going to happen between them. It’s just that Satsu obviously still has feelings for her, and now Faith is in the mix. This has the potential to go very badly.

Taking the fishing net with her, Buffy traipses back to the tree line, starting in the direction that Kennedy and Satsu will be coming from. It takes them a few minutes to pick their way through the trees toward her. When they meet in the middle, Satsu charges forward, like she’d like to wrap Buffy in a hug, but she recovers herself at the last minute and stops short. “Thank God we found you,” she says, sounding worried.

“Is Faith with you?” Kennedy asks, looking around as if Faith might be lurking in the trees. “She jumped in the portal after you. We were hoping you ended up in the same place. Otherwise we got a problem.”

“She’s here,” Buffy says. “A little worse for the wear due to the not having winter gear.”

Kennedy’s outfitted like the abominable snowman herself, and she turns slightly, showing Buffy the pack on her back. “We brought extra supplies for her.” She looks around again. “Where is she?”

“We found a little cabin,” Buffy says, turning to lead the way back. “Let’s go get her.”

“How did you manage out here?” Satsu asks as they walk, studying the snowy landscape.

“Uh,” Buffy says, her boots crunching through the shallow snow between the tight knit trees, “we had to dig a trench the first night. There was a storm. We just huddled up and waited for it to pass.”

Looking at her sideways, Kennedy smirks. “You huddled up?” She repeats. “And Faith’s still among the living?”

For not the first time, Buffy think about whether Giles might go with it if she suggests sending Kennedy on assignment to say… Siberia. “She’s fine,” Buffy answers, rolling her eyes.

“And then you found a cabin?” Satsu clarifies. “Were there supplies there?”

Buffy shakes her head. “No, it’s pretty Spartan.” She looks at the pack Satsu’s carrying. “Did you happen to pack snacks?”

Grinning, Satsu unclips the pack and swings it around to rest on her chest. She unzips it, reaching inside and producing an energy bar.

Buffy takes it almost reverently, ready to tear into it. Then she remembers Faith. “Do you have more? Should I save some of this for Faith?”

“We have more,” Satsu assures her.

Ripping the package open, Buffy takes a hearty bite from the bar, moaning in glee when her taste buds practically sing in enjoyment.

“How far is the cabin?” Kennedy asks, adjusting her scarf so it covers more of her face from the biting wind. “We got a bit of a hike back to where Willow’s expecting us.”

Buffy’s heart sinks. She was hoping Willow would be able to basically open a portal right outside the cabin door. Faith’s feet are improving, but she probably shouldn’t go hiking through the snow again. “Not much further,” she says.

Unlike before, they can see the cabin at some distance. Smoke puffs merrily from its little chimney, giving the location away. When they get closer, the door swings open, and Faith peers out, a suspicious look on her face. She’s dressed in her now dry jeans, hoodie on, but folds her arms around herself as the wind whips at her clothes. She catches sight of Buffy, then Kennedy, and her posture relaxes slightly. Then her eyes skip to Buffy’s other side, spotting Satsu, and the scowl is back in place. She ducks back inside.

Kennedy doesn’t seem to have noticed anything off with Faith’s reaction. She looks at the little cabin in surprise. “You call this a cabin? It’s more like a shack.”

“Any port in a storm,” Buffy points out. “There’s not really room inside for all of us. Want to give me the stuff you brought her and I’ll take it in?”

Unclipping her bag, Kennedy shrugs it off and passes it to Buffy. “Can you be ready in like 5? We gotta hustle to get back.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees.

Satsu produces another energy bar and a large bottle of water, holding these out to Buffy as well.

Accepting them, Buffy thanks them both and heads inside.

Faith’s already using the last of their boiled water to douse the embers in the fireplace. She looks up when Buffy comes in. “Looks like the cavalry’s finally here,” she says.

Setting the pack down on the bunk, Buffy holds out the energy bar to her. “And they brought provisions.”

Faith takes the bar and unwraps it, showing slightly more restraint than Buffy did in choking it down. “I’m guessing that’s your girl out there with Kennedy?” She asks, in between bites, her gaze focused down and not at Buffy.

“That’s Satsu,” Buffy corrects, keeping her voice low.

“She volunteered for the rescue mission, I guess.”

Buffy shrugs. “I didn’t really have time to ask,” she says lightly. “They brought some cold weather gear for you.”

Shoving the last bite of the energy bar into her mouth, Faith dusts off her hands and unzips Kennedy’s pack. A coat is crammed in the top, and she swings it over her shoulders, pulling it on. Tall, fur lined boots sit in the bottom of the bag, warm socks stuffed inside. “Does this mean we’re walking?”

“Kennedy said we have to walk back to where Willow will open the portal. She asked if we could be ready in five minutes.” She looks down at Faith’s socked feet. “Are you okay to walk? I know someone who can piggy back you if needed.”

“I’ll be okay,” Faith says, sitting down on the bunk and beginning to double up her socks.

“You know if you’re lying, I’ll just throw you over my shoulder,” Buffy says, stooping to pick up the still damp boots Faith wore when she jumped into the portal.

Faith doesn’t look up as she starts tugging the first boot on. “I got it,” she assures her. True to her word, she doesn’t so much as wince when she stands up, fully laced into her new boots. Buffy zips Kennedy’s pack with Faith’s old boots inside and slips it over her shoulder. She hands the water bottle to Faith. Between the two of them, they drink half.

Buffy looks around the tiny cabin again, as though there might be more worth packing. There isn’t, but her eyes linger on the bunk for a moment. “Ready to get back to the real world?” She asks. For some reason, Buffy feels reluctant to leave the cabin.

Already poised to open the door, Faith nods. “I’m sure Franklin misses me.”

“Franklin?”

“My fish,” Faith clarifies. “Not gonna tell him about eating his brethren last night.” Maybe it’s Buffy’s imagination, but she thinks Faith looks a little sad too. “You ready?”

“One more thing,” Buffy says. She comes over, winding her arms around Faith’s neck and pushing their puffy coated bodies together. Faith’s face is inscrutable, and Buffy finds no trace of the person who just a few hours ago was curled into her shoulder, watery eyed with emotion. Not willing to leave without reminding Faith of that, Buffy kisses her.

Faith doesn’t exactly melt into her arms, but she does kiss back. When Buffy lets go, Faith lifts the hat she’s holding in her hand and pulls it over Buffy’s head, making sure her ears are covered.

“Okay,” Buffy says, trying to muster up a smile. “Now I’m ready.”

XXXXX

It feels like the entire route back to the portal is straight into the icy wind. They’re heading in a different direction than she and Faith took to reach the cabin. The terrain here is rocky, which makes each step slippery. They walk in a tight square formation, Kennedy falling in beside Faith before Buffy has the chance to. The two of them take the lead, Faith setting a pace that Buffy’s sure can’t be comfortable for her feet. If they were alone, she’d say something, nag Faith about it maybe. But with the two junior slayers here, she says nothing. The four of them trudge on, with Buffy and Satsu in the rear. Twice Buffy fakes needing to stop, just in the interest of forcing Faith to take the breather that Buffy knows she must need.

This does nothing to reassure Satsu that Buffy is no worse for the wear after her unplanned subarctic vacation, and Buffy catches Satsu shooting her worried looks as they walk. They trade places after a while, Buffy and Satsu taking the brunt of the wind, and Buffy’s able to set a slightly slower pace. She can practically feel the irritation radiating off Kennedy. That part’s just an added bonus. “Any leads on who decided to send me and Faith into Winter Wonderland?” Buffy asks obtusely, not sure how much Willow and Giles have told either of them.

“Technically they only sent you,” Kennedy points out. “Faith threw herself in the portal after you.”

Satsu looks confused by that. Buffy gets it. Kennedy was in Sunnydale. She’s privy to more of the Buffy and Faith history than most of the newbies. The bare facts are well known. Faith went off the deep end for a while, did some time, and came back to help save the world. The rest is murky. She can only imagine what tall tales Andrew has been spinning for the other juniors. She’s guessing he hasn’t exactly talked up the fact that Buffy put Faith in a coma for a while. And he wouldn’t know much about their lives before that—the times Faith saved Buffy’s life, the way Buffy wanted to save hers in return.

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, “who sent me to wherever the hell this is?”

“This is the barrenlands,” Satsu answers, “and we don’t know yet.”

“Will put all her energy into tracking you guys down,” Kennedy adds.

Buffy has further questions, but she decides to keep them to herself. Better to table them for Willow and Giles. “How much further?” She asks instead, glancing over her shoulder to check on Faith.

Faith’s face is wind burnt and drawn. She meets Buffy’s eyes, holding her gaze until Buffy looks away first.

Consulting with a high tech looking device on her wrist, Kennedy frowns. “Another 3 miles or so, looks like.”

At their current pace, that’s going to take close to two more hours. Buffy’s about to suggest they take a snack break when her foot catches on a scraggly plant under the surface of the snow, tripping her. From the corner of her eye, she sees Satsu reach for her arm, but strong hands close around her waist first. Faith’s reflexes are just a bit faster. Satsu gives Faith a sharp look. Buffy can’t see Faith’s face, but however she looks, she doesn’t release Buffy’s waist. Instead she easily pulls her upright, leaving her hands in place for a moment. “You good?” She asks, leaning in toward Buffy’s ear to be heard over the wind.

Faith doesn’t let go of her waist until she nods. Buffy glances back again, but this time she sees Kennedy, who’s watched this exchange with a new understanding dawning on her face. She raises one eyebrow, a Cheshire cat smile on her lips.

Hoping the windburn camouflages the blush she feels rising to her cheeks, Buffy turns away.

Rummaging in her pack, Satsu pulls out more energy bars. “You should eat,” she tells Buffy, handing her the first one. Almost as an after thought, she passes one to Faith. “You too.”

“And I’m chopped liver?” Kennedy asks, snagging the third bar for herself.

Satsu rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You haven’t been stranded out here without food.”

“That’s true,” Kennedy acknowledges, opening the packaging on the bar in her hand. “I carb loaded before we came through,” she tells Buffy and Faith. “Pancakes galore.”

Buffy glances at Faith. “Can we kill her?”

“Red might mind,” Faith says thoughtfully.

“Hey,” Kennedy says, “I came to save both your asses, didn’t I? How about some gratitude?”

“You haven’t saved us yet,” Buffy mutters, looking out over the uneven ground ahead of them. It’s starting to snow again.

“Two more hours,” Kennedy says, “and you’ll be in a nice toasty portal, singing my praises.”

XXXXX

Two more hours finds them still trudging along, the snow coming down a bit heavier. “Almost there,” Kennedy says, for the third time. If she’s trying to bolster their spirits, it’s not working. Satsu’s shivering even through her parka. Buffy looks ready to drop, and Faith’s pretty sure one of her feet is bleeding. It’s hard to tell over the burning pain, but it does feel suspiciously warm and wet.

“If you say that one more time,” Faith threatens, “I’m whitewashing you.”

Kennedy doesn’t look so great herself. The tip of her nose is so red that Faith’s pretty sure she’s developing frostbite. “I’m just trying to keep everyone’s spirits up,” she sniffs.

“This is starting to look familiar,” Satsu interjects. She wanders a little left, trying to see past the small outcropping of trees they’re skirting. She turns back, looking at Kennedy. “Doesn’t that look like—”

Satsu suddenly stops speaking and looks down, then she sinks into the ground in front of their eyes.

“Satsu!” Buffy shouts, immediately running in her direction.

Faith catches her by the waist several yards from where Satsu disappeared. “Wait!” She says, Kennedy right behind her. “Look!”

There’s a depression in the snow and what appears to be a long crack now visible in the ground, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze into.

“Satsu!” Buffy calls again, not making any move to pull away and approach the crack.

“Fuck,” Kennedy says. “I _told_ her there were crevasses out here.”

“Tell me you brought rope with you,” Faith says.

“We did,” Kennedy says, “and it’s in Satsu’s bag.”

Pulling out of Faith’s hold, Buffy approaches the crevasse slowly, staying well away from the visible edge and testing each step before she commits to it. A few feet from the edge, she gets on her stomach in the snow and wiggles closer. “Satsu!” She screams again, now close enough to peer down.

This time they all hear it. A weak voice calling back, “I’m here!”

Faith and Kennedy stand behind Buffy’s prone body. “What do we do?” Kennedy asks.

“Are we close enough to where the portal’s gonna open that we can wait for help?” Faith asks.

Consulting the gadget on her wrist, Kennedy shrugs helplessly. “We’re pretty close. How’s she look, Buffy? Can you see her?”

Buffy cranes perilously over the edge, and Faith drops to her knees, grabbing Buffy’s ankle before she does something stupid like plummet head first into the crevasse.

“I can see her,” Buffy calls back. “Looks like she landed on a little ledge.”

“Can we reach her?” Kennedy asks.

Buffy shakes her head. “It’s too far!”

“Ask her if she can throw the rope up,” Kennedy suggests.

Still dangling, Buffy shouts the question down to Satsu. After a moment, she calls back to them. “She’s getting it out of her pack.”

Faith pulls Buffy away from the edge by her ankle, back to safety. Buffy frowns, snow covering her jacket and hair. “What’d you do that for?”

“We’re close to the portal,” Faith says. “We should get help and come back. One of us can stay here with her.”

It looks like Buffy’s considering that for a moment. “I don’t think she’s safe to wait. The ledge is really small. And it looks slippery.”

“How deep is she?” Kennedy asks. She squats down to be on the same level as the two of them.

“Maybe 35, 40 feet,” Buffy estimates. “We should try to get the rope and pull her out.”

“And what if you fall in trying to catch the rope?” Faith asks. “There’s no traction in this snow.”

“I won’t,” Buffy says, sounding confident. She meets Faith’s concerned eyes. “I have to try.”

Faith disagrees, but she’s familiar with that determined look on Buffy’s face. There’s no talking her out of something when she has that look. She nods tightly. “You get the rope,” she says. “We’ll hold you.”

Nodding, Buffy creeps back to the crevasse. Faith takes one of her ankles, sitting down in the snow and bracing herself with her feet. Kennedy copies her position, grasping Buffy’s opposite ankle. The three of them inch closer until Buffy’s leaning most of her chest over the edge, her weight supported by Faith and Kennedy.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Buffy calls down.

It takes half a dozen tries before Satsu is able to get the rope high enough for Buffy to catch it. By then, Faith’s sweating, her fingers holding Buffy’s boot and knee in a death grip.

When Buffy shouts that she has the rope, Faith nods at Kennedy and the two of them scoot backward, dragging Buffy with them. Faith’s breath is stuck in her chest, and she doesn’t fully exhale until Buffy’s whole body is back on solid ground. Buffy sits up, herself a little white faced and sweaty. She clutches the end of the rope for dear life.

It takes longer than it should for three slayers to pull one small woman out of a hole in the ground. The rope isn’t long enough to reach any of the closest trees, so Buffy insists on tying herself on. She stands farthest from the edge, with Kennedy in front of her, and Faith closest to the crevasse. Together they drag Satsu slowly upward. Faith assumes she’s trying to help them by climbing out, but she feels like dead weight on the end of the line, and their boots slip and slide through the snow as they pull.

One of Satsu’s hands finally appears over the edge of the crevasse, then her head. They keep heaving backward until she’s all the way out. Her right arm is dangling limply at her side, and she’s breathing hard. Faith gives another tug for good measure, making sure not even Satsu’s boots are anywhere near the edge.

Buffy comes forward with the rope still tied around her waist, and kneels beside Satsu. “Are you okay?” She asks, plucking her gloves off. Her hands come up to feel Satsu’s neck. There’s blood on the side of Satsu’s face, and Faith does have to admit she looks rattled. But something about seeing Buffy tending to her puts Faith’s teeth on edge. She turns away, clenching her jaw.

“That arm looks broken,” Kennedy says from beside her, still facing Buffy and Satsu. She winces. “Maybe a few ribs too.” Glancing at the gadget on her wrist, she says, “We need to get her up and moving. Willow’s gonna try the portal every 15 minutes, but she only has so much energy.”

“When was she supposed to start?” Faith asks.

“An hour ago,” Kennedy says, frowning.

Being stuck out here overnight with no shelter, an injured Satsu, and Kennedy to boot is really the worst-case scenario. Faith turns back around and makes her way over to Buffy and Satsu. “We gotta motor,” she says, “or we’re gonna miss our ride.”

Buffy’s got Satsu’s coat unbuttoned and is gently feeling around her ribs. “I’m not sure she can go right now.”

“I can,” Satsu wheezes, struggling to sit up.

Restraining her with one hand, Buffy says severely, “You’ll get up when I say you can get up.”

Satsu instantly stops, her face regaining a little color. Looks like the baby slayer digs when B gets bossy. Just great. Fucking great. These are the facts Faith really wants to be informed about when they’re _still_ stuck out here and her feet are aching and they’re running a real risk of being stuck here another night.

Kennedy joins them, looking down at Satsu with concern. “We don’t have another alternative,” she says. “We miss that portal and we’re all stuck out here overnight.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees reluctantly. She looks back at Satsu, her face concerned. “You’re sure you can do this?” She asks.

“Her legs look fine to me,” Faith says, unsympathetically.

Shooting her a glare, Buffy waits for Satsu’s confirmatory nod. When she gets it, she says, “Okay, let’s get you up then.” She moves to Satsu’s side, grasping her uninjured arm. Carefully, she helps her get to her feet, with Satsu’s breath whistling out from between gritted teeth the whole way. “Let’s get your pack off,” Buffy suggests, helping her remove it from her good arm and then slip it down her injured side. She holds the bag out for Faith to take.

Faith does so, then steps forward and unknots the rope from Buffy’s waist. Buffy hardly seems to notice. She’s focused on re-zipping Satsu’s coat and fussing over her.

Stuffing the rope back in the pack, Faith zips it and slings it onto her back. She stands beside Kennedy again. “We ready?” She asks, trying not to sound impatient.

Satsu nods and takes a gingerly step forward, Buffy at her uninjured side.

“Then let’s go,” Kennedy says, leading the way into what Faith hopes is the last leg of this journey.

XXXXX

The portal opens about 10 minutes after Kennedy looks at her gizmo and declares they’ve arrived. They spend that time passing around bottled water and mowing through some protein bars. Satsu passes on the latter, saying she doesn’t think she could keep it down. It hasn’t taken them more than another 40 minutes to walk here, but Satsu’s pace has been increasingly slow. Mid way, she began spitting blood. In spite of herself, Faith actually feels some concern for her.

Buffy goes through first, holding Satsu partially up. Faith and Kennedy step in next. Faith doesn’t even glance backward. If she never sees snow again, it’ll be too soon.

Willow practically wilts in relief when Faith and Kennedy step out looking relatively unscathed. Already, Buffy is helping Satsu sit down on the couch, and Giles is stooping over her in concern.

The portal closes behind them. “Are you guys okay?” Willow asks, looking tired and drawn. She comes over to them, touching Kennedy’s face with warm hands.

“I’m okay,” Kennedy assures her. “Satsu took a hard fall.”

Nodding, Willow says, “Dawn went to grab help from the infirmary.” She looks at Faith. “Are you okay?”

Faith looks at Buffy still sitting with Satsu and thinks about saying she’s fine and asking Willow to send her home. Then again there’s no magical infirmary at home. “Probably need to be checked out too,” she admits. “I’m pretty sure I got frostbite on my feet.”

Willow crosses her arms, looking dismayed. “Maybe next time I say ‘don’t jump in the portal,’ you’ll listen to me.”

“Hope springs eternal,” Faith says.

XXXXX

Faith’s always had a slight fear of nurses. They tend to see through people’s bullshit and they take no prisoners. And normal human nurses have nothing on the witches working the infirmary at HQ. Faith’s shuffled into a bed, her boots and socks removed, and scissors poised to cut off her jeans, before she can so much as say a word of protest. She draws the line at the scissors. “Hey,” she says, holding out both hands as if to ward them off. “These are the only pants I’ve got.”

The nurse, who Faith’s never seen before, but whose nametag identifies her as Cora, pauses. “Then I guess you better take them off.”

Wasting no time, Faith hobbles onto her bare feet and shimmies out of her pants. She slings them over the end of the bed and hops back up, putting her feet up. She flashes Cora a winning smile.

“Well,” Cora says, not seeming thawed by Faith’s smile in the slightest, “looks like you have superficial frostbite on both feet, which you made worse by popping the blisters.”

Faith opens her mouth to explain that she had to walk to be rescued, but Cora doesn’t give her the chance. “This one though,” she says, pointing to Faith’s left baby toe, “is deep. We’re gonna have to do something about this one.” She turns her Faith’s ankles and shins. “Does this hurt?” She asks, lightly touching the still pink skin on Faith’s shin.

“Yeah.”

Cora frowns. “Frostnip,” she says. “You’ll be fine.” She picks up the folded down sheet and blanket at the end of Faith’s bed, and says, “Get in.” Then she spreads her hands in the air over Faith’s legs and mutters an incantation. The space under the blankets warms gradually, not quite becoming hot, but definitely noticeably warmer than it was a moment ago. “I’ll be back with something for that toe.”

As Cora disappears behind the curtain partially pulled around Faith’s bed, Buffy pokes her head around. “Hey,” she greets, stepping through.

“Hey,” Faith says. Buffy’s wearing different clothes, big fluffy sweats and sneakers. “You get a clean bill of health?”

Buffy makes a guilty face. “Not exactly. They said I was dehydrated and they wanted me to stay for ‘observation,’ but I declined.” She hefts an unlabeled bottle. “I have been told I will replenish my electrolytes or face the consequences.” Coming the rest of the way into the little cubicle, Buffy comes to perch on the side of Faith’s bed. “What about you?”

“Like we thought,” Faith says. “One of my toes is pretty bad. Nurse Ratched went to get something.”

“Can it be treated?”

“Don’t know,” Faith says. “She didn’t explain. She could have gone to get the saw to take it off for all I know.” She looks at her blanket covered feet. “How’s Satsu?”

“They’re working on her now,” Buffy says. “She has broken ribs, two fractures in her arm, and probably a concussion. Plus some internal bleeding. She’s lucky she didn’t hit her head harder.”

She’s also lucky that Buffy was willing to dangle into the crevasse to get her back out without waiting for a rescue team.

“I should get back,” Buffy adds. “I want to sit with her.”

“Sure,” Faith says, forcing herself to appear unbothered.

“I’ll come by later?” Buffy suggests. She looks awkward, maybe nervous, and Faith’s stomach sinks like a stone.

“Sure,” Faith says again.

Buffy smiles at her, then gets up and disappears through the curtain.

XXXXX

Cora’s stony face was almost enough to keep Faith from leaving the infirmary… almost. She let them hook an IV up to her for a few hours to replenish her fluids, but that’s done now, and her toe is looking marginally pinker in color. The mojo they worked hurts like a bitch though. Faith accepts the offered pain killers, waits until they leave her alone again, then pulls her jeans back on and makes her escape. She treads barefoot through the castle, heading back to the room she was staying in last. If she had her way, she’d be headed home now, but she needs Willow for that, and Willow’s already stopped by to tell her she’s tapped out for the day. The first portal home isn’t leaving until tomorrow AM.

Back in her room, Faith finds fresh linens on the bed and fluffy towels in the bathroom. Stripping off her three day old clothes, she turns on the shower. She’s afraid to make it as hot as she’d really like it, with the still healing frostbite issues, so she settles for a slightly better than lukewarm wash up before she gets out. There’s a clean robe on the door and she slips into it, leaving her clothes behind for now. Rooting through the little basket of toiletries that she always seems to find in each of the rooms she stays in here, Faith works her way through the supplies, combing her hair, brushing her teeth, and putting on fresh deodorant. Apparently whoever’s in charge of hospitality here didn’t figure on guests needing a brand new set of clothes, or at the very least underwear, but that’s fine. She likes sleeping naked anyway.

Pulling back the covers, she drops the robe from her shoulders and slides in, taking care with the placement of her feet. After spending the last two nights crouched in a snow trench and smushed on a rock hard wood bunk, respectively, she expects a real mattress and soft sheets to feel like heaven. The bed is huge, she can spread out in it, rest her tired bones and be warm, actually warm. But the size of the bed only serves to remind her of what she doesn’t have now.  
  
Buffy’s still with Satsu, holding her hand and mopping her brow or whatever. And it’s not like Faith would normally begrudge the chick having someone to do that for her because she did nearly bite it coming to rescue them, except that this is Buffy. So in this particular case, she does begrudge her. With basically every fiber of her being. Two days ago, it would have bothered her, seeing Buffy dote on Satsu like that. It would have brought up the usual cycle of old anger and jealousy, and she would have shoved that down, gone back home, and tried to forget she ever even met Buffy Summers.  
  
But now... now she can’t even muster up the usual anger. She’s too tired. She’s exhausted and she’s just fucking sad. It’s her own fucking fault for letting Buffy see her real feelings. Buffy never said things were over with Satsu after all, just that they weren’t girlfriends. Faith heard what she wanted to hear, and now she’s stuck in this shitty castle another night before she can go home and try to put this whole thing behind her. She doesn’t know how exactly she’s going to do that. Getting to touch Buffy, getting to kiss her, and fall asleep with her... that’s going to stay with her for a long time.  
  
At least for tonight, the lack of sleep and the damage she’s recuperating from are making her drowsy enough to pass out. It’ll be easier to put Buffy behind her tomorrow, when she gets back to her own place. She just hopes Willow will be ready early enough that she can slip out without having to say goodbye.

XXXXX

By the time Buffy creeps down the hall to Faith’s room, it’s late, getting close to midnight. She’s been in the infirmary most of the night, keeping Satsu company when she periodically woke up. The infirmary team was able to set her arm, and cooked up some kind of concoction that is supposed to be helping with the internal bleeding, leaving Satsu groggy and in substantial pain every time she woke back up. Buffy hates seeing her like that. Logically, she knows it isn’t her fault that Satsu was hurt. It was an accident, but she’s one of Buffy’s slayers. She’s her responsibility.

At least Buffy knows she can count on her to stay put until the nurses give her the all clear. Unlike Faith, who apparently snuck out of the infirmary as soon as no one was watching her. Arriving at the door to the room she hopes Faith is back in, Buffy knocks lightly, starting to wonder if she should really just let Faith sleep. They’ve both gone through hell. Faith needs the rest. Buffy needs rest. It’s just that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Faith all night. The shocked look on her face when she found out about Buffy’s crush on her. The softness of her skin. The sound of her voice when she said, _You can have me._ The way she felt in the cabin with Faith, like they were the only two people in the world.

The door swings inward, and Faith stands there, her damp hair disheveled, giant robe wrapped around her. She’s makeup-less, blinking tiredly into the dim lighting of the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says immediately, with a wince. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Faith peers past her as though expecting some sort of emergency to be happening. Finding none, she says, “It’s okay.” She steps back, gesturing for Buffy to come inside.

Buffy does, happy that she took the time to at least get a shower before she came, given that Faith’s all cleaned up.

Striding through the dark, Faith clicks on the small lamp beside the bed. “What’s up?” She asks. She doesn’t move closer.

Buffy frowns slightly. “I heard you left the infirmary,” she says. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m five by five,” Faith says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She looks up at Buffy, her face mostly blank. “Thought you’d be spending the night with Satsu.”

Confused, Buffy shakes her head. “I’ll go back in the morning, check on her.”

Faith nods, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “That’s good,” she says. “I’m sure she appreciates you being there.”

“Are you okay?” Buffy asks, taking a few steps closer. She stops near the end of the bed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, “but you seem… off.”

Shrugging, Faith picks at the fuzzy fibers of her robe.

Faith doesn’t seem to want to even look at her. “Is this the part where you do the ‘get some, get gone’ thing then?” Buffy asks, trying not to sound as upset as she feels.

“What?” Faith looks up, her face twisting in indignation. “No. This is about you and Satsu.”

That takes Buffy aback. “Because I stayed with her in the infirmary?”

“You stayed with her in the infirmary _all night_ ,” Faith points out. “After you risked your life, and maybe mine and Kennedy’s, to get her out of that hole.”

“So?” Buffy asks, taken aback. “She fell because she came after me. I owed it to her to bring her home and make sure she was okay.”

“I went after you, too,” Faith says.

“I know,” Buffy agrees, still not sure where this is coming from. “But you…”

“What?” Faith asks. “I’m indestructible? I don’t need anyone to sit around and hold my hand? Why, because you put me in a coma once, and I didn’t die?”

Buffy blanches. “No!” She says. “But you’re strong. You’ve been doing this for years. Satsu’s in my squad. She’s my responsibility.”

“That why you slept with her?”

“What are you even talking about?” Buffy asks, starting to get pissed off. Who she slept with before is none of Faith’s business and she doesn’t owe her or anyone else an explanation for it.

“I’m talking about how you let me think there was nothing between you and her,” Faith says, her voice rising. “I saw you with her, B. I saw the way she looks at you.”

“I don’t…” Buffy starts, floundering. She can’t help the way Satsu looks at her! “She’s… she’s in love with me, but I—”

“And I’m not?”

Buffy blinks. Her chest goes tight, and for a second she forgets how to breathe.

Faith looks like she wishes she could pluck her words out of the air and shove them back in her mouth. She leans forward, elbows on her knees and her head hanging down.

“You… You’re not,” Buffy sputters. She takes a deep breath, and says, “You’re not in love with me.”

From behind her hair, Faith says, “I told you yesterday…”

“No,” Buffy says. “You said—”

“That when I was in the darkest place I have ever been,” Faith says, sitting back up and looking at Buffy, “when I hated myself so much I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to _live_ , you were the only thing that mattered to me?” Her eyes are wide, her eyebrows drawn together, the picture of hurt. “That I can’t even be around you because I know how badly I fucked up and I can’t stand that?”

Buffy’s brain goes totally blank. It takes her a second to even respond. “You didn’t say it like that,” she says quietly.

“Wish I didn’t say it at all now,” Faith says, looking away again.

Taking a few tentative steps along the side of the bed, Buffy reaches for Faith’s shoulder. Faith shrugs like she wants her to let go, but she makes no real effort to shake her off. “I’m not in love with Satsu,” Buffy says, clearly, so there can be no mistaking her meaning. “I don’t have feelings for her. I wanted to make sure she’s okay, because she’s a friend, and I care about her. It was a one-time thing. It’s never happened again and it won’t. She knows that.” She sits down beside Faith, still touching her shoulder. “I don’t care how she looks at me. In case you somehow missed it, before she almost died, I was looking at _you_.”

Faith looks over, her face a little less upset, but still not happy.

Buffy takes Faith’s hand in her free one. “I don’t know yet who kidnapped us, but when I find out, I’m gonna send them a fruit basket. Because I would gladly walk through blizzards and sleep in a hole in the ground and eat fish I had to catch myself if it all ends the way it did last night.” She squeezes Faith’s hand. “I thought about you all day,” she says.

Turning toward her, Faith swallows hard. “Me too.”

“Was I naked in these thoughts?”

The corner of Faith’s mouth turns up. “Some of them.”

Buffy’s brain is still playing catch up with the conversation in total. She think about what Faith said about not being indestructible. Buffy remembers all too well how it felt to be desperately in love with Angel and finally take their relationship to the next level, only for Angel to be gone the next day. She remembers how the very next time she had sex, things went sort of similarly. She hadn’t meant to make Faith feel the way that Buffy felt those times, like she was an after thought, like something that meant a lot to her was just easily forgotten fun for the other person. “I know things between us haven’t ever been easy,” she says, “but last night… that was real. I’m sorry I made you feel like I was blowing you off, or it didn’t mean anything.”

Faith doesn’t say anything, just watches her.

“You matter to me, too.”

Faith looks at Buffy intensely for another moment, then she turns toward her, bringing her hand to Buffy’s hair and kissing her.

It feels like she should say more. Faith’s just opened up a lot after all, but it’s also been hours and hours since she last got to touch Faith like this. She forgets whatever else she was thinking about saying, as Faith leans into her, getting up on one knee so she can press Buffy back against the bed. Any thought of sitting back up and talking more flies straight out of her head when Faith’s hands slide under her shirt.

Taking her time, Faith peels off each piece of Buffy’s clothing, warm lips and hands brushing all over her bare skin. She maneuvers Buffy backward until she’s fully on the bed, her whole body pleasantly warm and relaxed. When she’s finished, she slips out of the robe she’s wearing and comes back, settling on top of Buffy. Neither of them have the patience to wait, and Buffy’s hand slips between Faith’s legs just as Faith’s fingers are finding their way between hers.

It’s like before, the two of them so close together they can barely find room to move. And maybe they don’t need to say everything out loud. Maybe this is talking too. All their biggest moments together were accompanied by action—only now instead of bloody knuckles and bruised ribs, it’s Faith mouthing at her pulse point, and Buffy’s hand tangled in Faith’s hair. So Buffy tries to say everything she can this way, with her hands gentle when Faith needs them to be, and forceful when she needs that too. When she opens her eyes and sees Faith looking down at her, her dark eyes full of wonder and awe, she knows Faith is doing the same.

After, when Faith’s head is on her chest, her breathing gradually evening out, Buffy combs her fingers through the dark hair spilling down Faith’s back and wonders what happens next. “You should stay for a while,” she says, her voice soft. She tries to sound casual, doesn’t quite succeed.

The arm around Buffy’s stomach tightens. “I should probably get back,” Faith says, sounding hesitant. “Once we figure out who tried to off us, I mean.”

She’s disappointed, but she tries not to let it show. Kissing the top of Faith’s head, she says, “Okay.”

Faith’s fingertips trace patterns on her side, almost, but not quite, tickling her. “Maybe you could come with me.”

Buffy tries to think of the last time she heard Faith’s voice sound so young and uncertain. Racking her memory, she comes up with Christmas in Sunnydale, Faith on her porch in her fanciest clothes and small gifts in her hands.

“I’ll introduce you to Franklin,” Faith adds, trying to add a teasing tone to her words and only half succeeding.

Buffy tries not to appear as ridiculously thrilled with this suggestion as she feels. “Will he like me?”

“Hard to say,” Faith says. “He’s kind of moody. You’ll have to win him over. Maybe bring a present, a new toy for his tank.”

“Bribery,” Buffy says. “I can do that.”

“Think you can get away for a few days?” Faith asks, in that same voice that makes Buffy’s chest feel tight.

She slips her hand from Faith’s hair down to her waist and squeezes. “Yes.” She can feel Faith’s mouth curve into a smile against her breast. She asks, “What’s the weather like? What should I pack?”

“Oh,” Faith says, tilting her head back to look at Buffy, “you’re not going to need clothes.”

A little thrill runs through her. “No?”

Faith’s grin lights up the room. “Maybe like, one pair of pants, in case we go out for food.”

“Or fish environmental enrichment supplies.”

“That too,” Faith agrees. Her eyes move down to Buffy’s mouth before she kisses her. “Maybe bring a dress or something.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rise questioningly.

“I could take you somewhere,” Faith says. “Somewhere nice I mean.” She looks down, shrugging a little.

“I’d like that,” Buffy says, starting to make lazy circles on Faith’s hip. “You know, if word gets out about how much of a softy you are, your reputation around the castle is gonna take a hit.”

“I’ll start a fight with Kennedy tomorrow,” Faith says. “Keep up appearances.”

“I’d like to see that,” Buffy says in a dreamy voice.

Snickering, Faith asks, “Yeah? Thinking about me and Ken going round for round, getting all sweaty… that do it for you?”

“No,” Buffy says firmly. “I meant the part where you punch her, preferably in such a way that she doesn’t talk for a few days. Not the rest of it.” Her hand moves onto Faith’s ass, squeezing lightly. “That part you could save for me.”

“It’s all yours,” Faith says, her hand finding its way onto Buffy’s boob. She wiggles upward so she can reach Buffy’s mouth easier, slinging her thigh over Buffy’s as she kisses her. “All yours,” she says again, against Buffy’s mouth, and it doesn’t sound like she just means the hot and sweaty parts. It sounds like everything. It sounds like a promise.

“I seem to recall you telling me I could have anything I want,” Buffy says, her voice a little strained.

“Something in particular on your mind?” Faith asks, as she moves down to Buffy’s neck.

“A few things,” Buffy says, the last word going up in pitch as Faith rolls her nipple between her fingers.

“Well,” Faith says, her voice low and mischievous, “a promise is a promise.”

She pinches Faith’s ass. “Okay then,” she says, already thinking about the many, many things she wants to do to Faith. “Move over. I want you on your stomach.”

There’s a lot of work still ahead of them. They need to figure out who dumped them in the barrenlands and where Acathla may be. They need to get the statue back or stop the plan to awaken it in some other way. There will undoubtedly be anger and hurt feelings from the slayers on her team who she left in the dark out of necessity. All of that is waiting for them tomorrow, along with who knows what other crises. But that’s tomorrow. For tonight, there are promises to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick little one shot... so naturally it's now 22,000 words long. Oops. Hope you enjoyed this! Comments always appreciated. :D
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://aliceinwondrbra.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/aliceinwondrbra).


End file.
